The Day Ron and Hermione Decided to Revive Their Sex Life
by Ely-Baby
Summary: Mayhem ensues when Ron and Hermione decide to restore the passion that they used to share in their relationship. Following Harry and Ginny's pieces of advice, they find themselves in embarrassing situations and traumatic experiences. How far will they go to rekindle the flame? How many misadventures will they have to endure before succeeding? R
1. I

**Disclaimers:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **I have received a lot of attention here on this website lately and all those new reviews and PM's had made me want to go back to write again, even though I thought I had sworn off fan-fictions forever (despite the fact that, _alas!_, some of my works are incomplete). I hope you appreciate it! Now, before you go ahead and flame me senseless, I just wanted to remind you that a) I wrote this (and I mean the whole story, five chapters in total) in less than a week), b) I am NOT an English mother-tongue (me is Italiana!), c) no beta-reader was harmed in the making of this story (read: unbetaed). Read at your own risk! If you have something nice to say about this story and want to let me know, go ahead and do so, I love reviews so very much and will be forever grateful! Also I wanted to dedicate this fan-fiction to my best-friend in the world, the only person who read all of my stories and found them all wonderful (the fact that she is my best-friend might have influenced her judgement). You know who you are, I miss you!

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I.

The Leaky Cauldron welcomed his costumers with an inviting heat that made them forget about the cold and damp outside. Harry himself, on walking into the pub, sensed a pleasant warm breeze caressing his cheekbones and he felt the urge to unbutton his jacket. At the same time, though, his glasses misted up, making impossible for him to distinguish anything or anybody at all in the pub. Except for Ron, naturally. Ron and his mass of red hair, slightly ruffled, and his incredible tall figure stood out from the crowd of customers in every situation. As Harry wiped his lenses, he noticed that he was slightly hunched on what looked like a gigantic bowl of ice cream. Three tall glasses were lined on the table in front of him, two empty and one half-full. Pumpkin juice. Harry ignored why Ron had asked him to meet him there – meeting outside their own houses usually meant he needed to discuss something private, so private that Ginny and Hermione were not allowed to know – but what he knew was that his friend wasn't looking good at all.

Harry walked towards Ron and sat in front of him as his friend brought a spoonful of ice-cream to his mouth.

"Ice-cream and pumpkin juice," the black haired man said, "this must be an emergency."

Ron grimaced at his best friend's words and didn't wait to swallow the ice-cream to reply. "Please, I have a headache."

"I think that's the ice-cream."

"It's not the ice-cream, the ice-cream is what I'm using to curing my headache," explained Ron seriously.

"Right," said Harry, smiling. "And this is 'bowl of medicine' number…?"

"Four," replied Ron, "and this stuff is going to cost me a fortune, they have to keep going to Florean Fortescue's to get it."

A waitress came to take Harry's order. The man asked for a Butterbeer and a favour. "I'm sorry," he started, "clearly my friend has a problem: he can't control himself when it's up to food. Can you just ignore any other request he may have? Especially if it's ice-cream or pumpkin juice."

The waitress giggled and nodded as she left. Ron glared at Harry. "I was just about to order another bowl."

"I know," said Harry, flashing an innocent smile.

Ron rolled his eyes and downed the remaining pumpkin juice from his glass.

"So?" Harry asked as the waitress placed the Butterbeer right in front of him. "Is there a reason why you asked me to come here?" He sipped thoughtfully from his glass. "Are we on a date and I don't know it?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Please, as if I'd ever ask you out. You are not my type."

Harry ignored him. "Because I am married to your sister and you are married to Hermione…"

Ron looked nauseated, Harry didn't know if it were for the ice-cream or the fact that he said that he was married to his sister. Hopefully it was not the bit on Hermione that disgusted him. "Don't remind me…" he said. "Hermione and I…" He swallowed. "We have… problems…" He looked very interested in his bowl, and started to ripple the melted ice-cream that was collecting on the bottom.

Harry studied Ron's face. Ron and Hermione having problems? This was not good news indeed, apart from the obvious fact that he loved them dearly, he highly disliked to see Ron moping about these things in his presence. He could be extremely melodramatic. On the other hand though, in the past Ron had confessed about having problems with Hermione multiple times and some of these problems were just too stupid to even be considered as such. For example: a) Hermione thought Ron snored too loudly, she told him and he didn't know what to do about it; b) Ron didn't like Hermione's recipe for the meat pie, but didn't quite know how to tell her; c) Ron had no idea how a TV worked but didn't want Hermione to know. So, every time Ron told Harry that he and Hermione were having problems, he always wanted to know what the problems were before he started to worry.

"Problems," he said flatly. "What kind of problems?"

Ron's cheeks turned pink, a colour that did not suit his complexion. "You know… problems…" He looked at Harry. "_That_ kind of problems…"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "_That_ kind of problems?" he asked without understanding.

Ron glared at him. "Don't be thick, Harry," he replied heatedly. "Those problems." He lowered his voice. "You know… sex problems." He flushed an even deeper shade of crimson and tried to drink from his glass again, only to notice that it was empty.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the chair. Too much information. "Oh," was all he could say.

"Yeah," replied Ron. "Help?" he asked, looking up at him.

Harry's eyes became huge behind his glasses. "Help?" he said in disbelief. "What kind of help would I be able to give you?"

Ron tapped nervously on the glass. "A piece of advice?"

Harry downed half of the pint he had in his hands. A piece of advice on Hermione and Ron's sexual life meant that he had to listen to the problem and then think about a solution that involved his two best friends private lives. He was not too keen on that. And if Hermione, by any chances, came to know that they had talked about their sex life – and that Harry had been giving her husband advice on it –, he would have probably bought himself and his whole family a ticket to every convention/meeting/fair of the recently revived S.P.E.W. Of course they were all kept in Ron and Hermione's living room, and there were cupcakes and tea afterwards, but still they were probably more tedious than their old lessons of History of Magic and Harry wasn't too keen to end up like Binns who died of dullness.

"Well, Rose was born," said Harry, "so I guess I should be skipping the whole flowers and bees story."

"Yes, yes," said Ron, quickly, "save it for James and Albus."

"So what is it?" asked Harry. "Because, I remember that when Hermione was back at Hogwarts for her last year and you went there to visit…" His words trailed away as he winked to his friend. Yes, Harry remembered. It was something that almost made Mrs. Weasley have a heart attack, and Hermione almost be expelled.

"Exactly," said Ron enthusiastically, "we used to not be able to keep our hands off each other and now…" He sighed. "I don't even remember—"

"—how to do it?"

Ron snorted. "Ah-ah. No," he replied sourly. "I don't remember what she likes, what I like, our favourite position…" He leaned his forehead on the glass rim. "We used to do it every day, Harry." His eyes got bigger. "Every day," he repeated as if he couldn't quite believe it himself.

Harry looked at him with a bit of amusement in his eyes. He felt guilty, though, that he kind of found the whole thing funny and decided that he was going to be supportive instead of being an insensitive wart. "Talk me through it, will you? When did this start?"

Ron looked at his friend with a pained expression. "I need something strong to talk about my sex life with…" He sighed. "… you."

Harry seemed to agree. He gestured to the waitress and asked for two Firewhiskey. When the alcoholic liquid was brought to them, they downed it in one gulp. It burned Harry's stomach and, from the expression on Ron's face, Ron's too.

"Better?" asked Harry.

"Definitely," replied Ron. "Okay, we haven't been having sex in probably three months," he blurted out. "That's a lot, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. The longest he and Ginny had been without sex was two weeks and that was after Lily was born. Ron did not need to know that. Especially since he had forbidden his best friend to tell him anything concerning the Auror's sex life with his sister. He nodded again in response to Ron. "So, why has it been that long?" he asked. He was not finding the conversation particularly comfortable either. Him and Ron were usually at ease talking about Quidditch and work and how long their wives took to do anything, rather than… this.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea." He played with the water that had condensed and dripped from the ice-cream bowl onto the table. "We used to do it every single night and then… it all started after Rose was born. I was tired, she was tired, the baby was in the bedroom sleeping with us…" He sighed. "We just did it more and more rarely and then stopped doing it completely."

"Rose is almost two years old, Ron," Harry pointed out.

"Well, it didn't start right away," replied Ron curtly. "It just got worse with time." He shook his head. "I don't know, I don't think it was because of Rose, really. Poor thing." He smiled weakly. "She is not the cause of her parents not having sex."

"To be honest, I think every child would love to be the cause of their parents not having sex," chuckled Harry.

Ron smiled too. "Right." He tapped his fingers on the table. "But it's not her fault. She sleeps in her own room now, and she never comes to our bed in the middle of the night."

Harry blinked. "So…?"

"So, well, I don't bloody know, do I?" he asked heatedly. "Blimey! If I knew I would have done something!" He sighed. "I come home late and she has to wake up early, and in the weekends we are visiting my parents and then hers and then you and Ginny and one day we go to Diagon Alley and another we have something else to do…" He snorted. "It's almost awkward, Harry… when I get close to Hermione she is looking at me like, 'I hardly think so, Mister'. She is never in the mood and when she is, I am not…"

"You are not in the mood?" asked Harry in disbelief.

Ron shrugged. "Sometimes," he said nonchalantly. He snorted. "Like you are always in the mood yourself I guess." He eyed Harry suspiciously. "You are not, are you?"

"Well, I am," he replied shamelessly.

"Shut up," said Ron disgusted, "I don't want to know."

Harry sighed. "Listen, can I talk freely?"

Ron looked up at him. "Course you can."

"You are not going to cringe when I mention your sister and I?"

Ron paled. Of course he was going to. "No," he replied bravely.

"Okay," he sighed, "you need to spice up you sex life." He looked Ron straight in the eyes as his friend became of a greenish colour. "There are some things that Ginny and I do sometimes." Ron became even greener. Harry ignored him. "You know, some things that make things more… exciting."

Ron swallowed. "I'm listening," he murmured heroically.

A phantom of a smile appeared on Harry's lips. He kind of enjoyed to embarrass Ron like that. "Well, a bit of role-play for example," he continued. "That always makes things more interesting."

Ron looked perplexed. "We did that once or twice," he let him know. "Hermione was a Healer and I had Vanishing Sickness and… she visited me wearing a very sexy white uniform…"

"And then you and her… you know… did it work?"

Ron flushed. "Not exactly, no…"

"What do you mean no? You didn't have sex?"

"Well, for believability sake, she said that Vanishing Sickness was contagious so she had ended up sick as well, and we slept in two separate rooms." Ron seemed even more flustered than when he had to talk about sex.

Harry frowned. "I thought you were role-playing to have fun in the bedroom."

"We were," replied Ron hurriedly, "but you know Hermione, don't you? She likes when everything is perfect…"

Harry blinked. He knew Hermione, but he still didn't understand her. "Listen, anyway, that is not even what I meant with role-play."He looked at Ron who seemed confused. "I mean, yes, that is what you should do, but there are other ways, you can bring it to a higher level now."

"What level?"

"Two words, Ron, Polyjuice Potion," he said, grinning.

Ron looked confused, then interested and finally excited. "Polyjuice Potion? Just for the sake of having sex?"

Harry nodded. "It's nothing Ginny and I have invented, they sell phials of brewed Polyjuice Potions with hairs from your favourite famous wizard or witch." He looked at Ron. "Naturally, you can also customize your own."

Ron smiled a little. "Well, I suppose it would be nice to have Hermione look like Madam Rosmerta for a night…"

Harry coughed. "Really? Nobody younger?" he asked even though he was well aware of his friend's long time crush on the proprietor of the Three Broomsticks.

Ron shrugged, then he darkened. "And maybe Hermione would like to spend the night with Viktor Krum."

Harry sighed. "I'm sure she wouldn't enjoy that," he said unconvincingly. "But you should suggest it to her. She might like the idea of a bit of fantasy becoming reality."

Ron nodded thoughtfully, then something stroke him and he looked hard at Harry. "Who have you Polyjuiced yourself into?" he asked. "And Ginny?"

This time it was Harry's time to blush. "Well, if I tell you, I would have to kill you," he said cryptically. "Why don't I tell you about suggestion number two instead?"

Ron stared at him, but decided that maybe it was better to not investigate further. For his own sake at least. "Okay," he said.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, the second thing that I'd like to suggest is that a bit of aid while you are in bed is not necessarily a bad thing…"

Ron's blue eyes widened. "Aid from who?" he asked in disbelief.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not from who, from what," he said. Then he lowered his voice, "you know, ropes, blindfolds, gags… this kind of things…"

Ron moved his chair a bit closer to Harry's. "_This kind of things_?" he repeated. "How can you be so well informed about _this kind of things_?" He eyed Harry suspiciously and decided that he didn't want to know. "Don't answer, please."

"Listen," said Harry briskly, "that's not important." _But I guess you can imagine how I know about them_, he thought. "You know that there's an adult corner at George's shop, right?"

Ron nodded. "Of course I know, I used to work there, Harry."

"And you never bought anything?" he asked in disbelief. "Not even out of curiosity?"

"No," retorted Ron, "why? Did you?"

"Not from George, no," he replied, "I don't think he would appreciate me buying those things for his little sister."

"Hey, she is my little sister too!" protested Ron weakly.

"Right," sighed Harry, "but I do swear that they work. And I'm sure you can buy them from your brother, he would not mind."

Ron thought about it and remembered some of the items in that corner. The one protected by an Age Line. Some of those things looked quite… exciting. Some others he didn't even know where to put them. Others looked quite painful. "So you are saying to just go and get some of those things, right?"

"Just one is enough," he said, chuckling. "And some of them you don't want to mix with."

"Okay, looks someone knows what he is talking about," said Ron, eyeing his friend warily. "Is that all?"

Harry shook his head. "One last thing," he told him, "a bit of adrenaline would not be a bad idea as well."

Ron looked confused. "Excuse me, isn't sex charged-up enough?"

"Yes, but you can always get more from your experience." Harry smiled. "A bit of thrill to top the excitement of sex."

Ron frowned. "And how would you do it?"

"Public sex," whispered Harry, flushing a bit himself.

"Excuse me?" asked Ron scandalized.

"Don't think about Ginny and me," replied Harry quickly. "Think about you and Hermione."

"Yeah, I don't usually think about you and Ginny." Ron grimaced. "I'm thinking about Hermione and me," he added, "and I don't think she'll like it."

Harry snorted. "It doesn't need to be you and her in the middle of Diagon Alley at noon on a weekend," he reassured Ron. "Just you know, a public place where nobody can see you." He seemed to think about it and added, "But where people can still walk on you as you are at it." He smiled. "But they won't."

Ron looked puzzled. "So, will they walk on us, or won't they?" he asked.

"Well, they could, but naturally they won't," he replied, "if you know where to stand." He looked at Ron. "Or lie. Like a public restroom, or your office or Hermione's. I mean, people are always sending you those annoying flying letters, nobody is ever coming to your office."

"That's not true," protested Ron.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "It is, nobody ever comes to mine as well, and I'm Head Auror."

"Right, okay, any other suggestion?"

Harry shook his head thoughtfully. "None that comes to mind, no." He patted Ron's shoulder. "Listen, go home, talk to Hermione, and I'm sure that she will be willing to try something. Especially with you."

Ron glared at Harry. "Who else would she be willing to do these things with?"

Harry laughed in reply. "Sorry, I meant, she will be willing to try something because it's you."

Ron looked at Harry and nodded warily. He gestured to the waitress for the bill. "Okay, yes," he mumbled, "it should be fun, right?"

"If you do it right," laughed Harry.

Ron glared at his best friend. "We are not dense, you know." Then he sighed as he paid the astronomical bill. "I'm sure Hermione hasn't even noticed that it has been so long since we did it." And as he said so the two friends left the Leaky Cauldron.

ooo

"Four months?" asked Ginny in disbelief, putting a cup of tea in front of Hermione. "Are you sick?" She turned towards the kitchen counter and grabbed her own cup.

Hermione shook her head sadly, placing her hands on the warm mug. "No and neither is he," she replied, "we just haven't had intercourse in four months. Merlin, that's a long time now that I'm saying it out loud."

"It is, I don't know how you manage to resist," confessed Ginny. "But you are sleeping with my brother so I don't blame you."

Hermione pretended to be annoyed. "Very funny," she sighed. "We need to do something about it or we will soon sleep in different rooms and then different houses and then…"

"Well, have you talked to Ron?" asked Ginny, noticing what a bad idea that was as soon as she said it out loud.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't even think he noticed it has been that long," she confessed. "I wish I knew what to do to revive our passion."

Ginny leaned her elbows on the table of her kitchen and smiled knowingly. "Well, you came to the right place, then," she said.

Hermione sipped some tea. "Did I?" she asked hopeful.

"Yes, you know," started Ginny, sounding very professional, "there are some things that Harry and I do from time to time, just to keep the interest alive. After three children we do what we can."

"Which is?"

"In three words, Hermione, bondage, public sex and role-play."

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly. "Those are six words," she mumbled.

Ginny rolled her eyes and looked uncannily like her brother. "Sor-ry," she said in a sing-song voice. "Can't you focus on the content rather than the form?"

Hermione looked into her mug. "I am focusing on both and… I don't know," she said unsure, "I was thinking more about a romantic dinner or a weekend somewhere." She sighed. "But who has the time for that anymore?"

"I hear you," replied Ginny, groaning. "Children, work, housework…" She stared at Hermione who seemed to be very interested in the amber liquid in her cup. "So?" she asked tentatively.

Hermione shrugged, raising her head and looking at Ginny with a faint smile. "Right," she said, "I don't see why we shouldn't try something different."

Ginny smiled brightly. "Hey, do you need any information about these things? You know how they work?"

Hermione looked at her. "I am not completely useless, Ginny, I know the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes has a whole shelf dedicated to bondage and at the office we had a problem with the Polyjuice Potions that are sold in the shops."

"You don't look like you need a lesson from me, then," said Ginny, still smiling.

Hermione smiled back. "No, you are right, but thank you for suggesting… these things," she conceded. She stood up and prepared to Apparate. "Now, all I have to do is persuade Ron to try them," she said before bidding goodbye and leaving her sister-in-law's house.

ooo

Ron walked into the kitchen in his pyjamas. Hermione was sitting at the table, reading a parchment, her feet on a chair and her eyes tired. She looked up as he came to a stop in front of her, and smiled warmly to him. "Thank you for putting Rose to bed," she said, "you didn't have to."

Ron smiled back. "I wanted to," he said, opening the fridge and taking a piece of cake on a small plate. He sat in front of Hermione who looked at him reproachfully.

"Haven't you had enough earlier?" she asked in the same way his mother would do.

He looked at her with his lips covered in chocolate. "There's no such thing as enough cake," he said with his mouth full.

Hermione shook her head and looked back down at the parchment. Some boring report of some boring meeting she hadn't attended.

Ron swallowed the piece of cake that he had in his mouth and parted his lips to talk. Before he could produce a sound, though, Hermione looked up and said, "I went to Ginny's today."

Ron felt a bit flustered, he suspected he had missed the right moment to talk to Hermione about Harry's suggestions, but he smiled anyway. "That's nice," he said, "I met Harry at the Leaky Cauldron."

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Really? What for?" She smiled. "I mean, don't the two of you already work together? Can't you get enough of him?"

Ron tried to smile. "Well, you know us," he murmured, "we were talking about Quidditch and work."

"Good," she said flatly, "I guess."

"What about you two?" blurted out Ron, preparing to receive a reply about diapers and recipes.

Hermione lowered her eyes. "We were talking about us."

"Us?" asked Ron abruptly. "_Us_ like in us?" He gestured between the two of them. "Or _us_ like in you and Ginny?"

Hermione looked at him. "Us like in us," she said, gesturing just like her husband had done. "Why? What's wrong?"

He didn't reply. "Well, why would you talk about us to my sister?" he asked, forgetting accidentally on purpose that he had done the same exact thing with Harry.

Hermione looked at him seriously. "Because, if you haven't noticed, Ron," she said, her voice firm, "we haven't had sex in four months."

"Four? I thought it was three," he said, quickly trying to mentally recall the last time they had sex.

"Beg your pardon?" exclaimed Hermione. "So you noticed!"

Ron looked at her as if she were out of her mind. "Well, of course I noticed!" he spluttered. "I was talking to Harry about it just today!"

Hermione blinked. "You were?" she flushed in anger, then embarrassment and finally shame. Anger at her husband talking about their sex life with a third person, embarrassment because Harry now knew their problems – not that she didn't know that Ginny was going to tell him anyway – and shame because she was angry at Ron for doing what she had just done. She put down the parchment, her mouth a thin line. "And?" she asked, trying to sound calm.

"And what?" asked Ron playing with the cake.

"Well, did he suggest anything in particular?" she questioned. "Maybe a way to rekindle the passion?" She took a deep breath. "Because your sister came up with all sorts of ideas to…"

"I don't want to know," he said, placing a hand in front of her face. "Yes, Harry did."

"Let me guess," said Hermione, moving the hand away. "Bondage, public sex and role-play?"

Ron swallowed some more cake. "Well then, it seems like my secret meeting with Harry was a good exercise in futility."

Hermione smiled. "Au contraire," she said, "it was very useful. Now I know that you want to do something about this situation."

Ron smiled back. "Of course I do," he whispered, "I just want to have our fun nights back." He leaned towards her and kissed her. Hermione kissed him back, tasting the cake in his mouth. After a moment she smiled against his lips.

"Great," she said, detaching herself from her husband, "I'm off to bed, I have an early meeting tomorrow." She stood up and rolled the parchment.

"Hey," exclaimed Ron, taken aback, "what about… you know what?"

She pushed the chair under the table. "Right," she replied in a business-like way, "here are the ingredients that I'm missing for the Polyjuice Potion." She handed him a piece of paper with three things written in her tidy writing. Fluxweed, Leeches and Biocorn horn. "I don't trust those brewed ones that they sell in the shops. And here," she added, showing him a sealed envelope, "are the names of the people I would be interested to see you transform into."

"Well, can I see?" he asked, trying to get the envelope from her hand before she snatched it away.

"No," she replied, smiling, "you have to write a list too and we will read them together."

Ron looked uncomfortable. He lied, "I don't think I want to see you transformed into any—"

"Oh come on," she interrupted him, "try to be a little bit creative, Ronald!"


	2. II

**Author's Notes: **I am in a writing frenzy. I have just written a Pansy/Draco one-shot for my "The Seven Deadly Sins" series and boy! I loved the way it came out! Then, I proceeded in proof-reading (is it proof-reading when you do it to your own work?) this chapter and boy! I hated it! Compared to my other fan-fiction I find this so bland and uninteresting.. Anyway, I hope you'll like it, naturally! I promise the next three upcoming chapters will be much better. Two things to know on this fan-fiction: 1. I will update a chapter every Saturday and 2. rating will go up to M from chapter four. Just one thing to know on this very chapter: there is a whole chunk of the chapter where I have no idea which verb tense I should use! I started with the Past Perfect, but it sounded weird so I changed some verbs back to Simple Past. It's the bit from "Earlier that month..." to "...manage to calm down.", every suggestion and corrections on that bit are more than happily received! Happy reading guys!

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II.

"Hermione, keep up!" screamed Ginny above the noise of the crowd. "If we don't get to the backstage area in time we are never going to get the hair you need!"

"The hair Ron needs!" Hermione cried back. Her own voice came back muffled to her ears. Two hours in a concert and she thought she had gone deaf. And now, she felt all wobbly as she followed Ginny against a crowd of people who were trying to make their way to the exits. The two women, instead, were struggling to get backstage. The hair they were after was that of Glenda Chittock, the popular, powerful and gorgeous presenter of Witching Hour, at the venue that night to interview the Weird Sisters after the concert.

Earlier that month, Ron had expressed his desire to see his wife transformed in the W.W.N. superstar. The night he came home with the last ingredient needed for the Polyjuice Potion, the two of them had sat down at their kitchen table and read each other's list. Comments had been kept to a minimum on both parts (that was the agreement) except for when Ron had reached the name of Viktor Krum.

"Krum?" he asked venomously. "Oh, okay…" he added upon seeing the brackets following the name that said 'Just joking'.

Hermione had smiled at his reaction. As Ron discovered, her list followed a clear path. She didn't mention anybody they knew personally, anybody they have ever talked to or even seen in person. They were all people Ron had seen on some Chocolate Frog Cards, or maybe on the W.W.N. or even a few Quidditch players (they had to be _that_ famous for her to remember) from some match he had dragged her to see through the years. Ron wasn't able to recall the appearance of most of the people she had written about, but the ones he remembered were famous for their good looks. The last point of her list informed him that she was also quite fine with a complete stranger. Apparently, the element of surprise excited her.

On the other hand, Ron's list started with Hermione's name. She smiled and wondered if he had felt let down by the fact that his name wasn't on her list. Then he had added some of his long time crushes, Madam Rosmerta, Fleur and Lavender Brown (Hermione had flared her nostrils without commenting), and apparently some new ones such as Glenda Chittock and Padma Patil.

They had stared at the lists for a long moment before actually speaking, but in the end it was Hermione who broke the silence. "You know what?" she asked out of nowhere. "I don't think that we should impersonate someone we know." She looked at him seriously. "I mean, imagine how awkward that would be to meet them after we had used their identities to have sex."

Ron seemed to think about it. "I don't know," he said unconvinced. "I don't think I would feel too embarrassed ordering a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks after I've had sex with Madam Rosmerta…" His eyes darted towards Hermione, alarmed at the slip of his tongue. "I mean sex with _you_!" he corrected himself.

Hermione smiled. "I know what you mean, Ron," she said calmly. "So, you want me to transform into an old lady to please you in bed? Well, that's not depressing at all…"

Ron looked at her ghastly. "You are the first name on that list!" he protested.

"Right," she said nonchalantly. She hadn't even started to explain to him why her name on that list was a great exercise in futility. "Have you decided how you'll get the hair?"

Ron looked at her without understanding. "How are _you_ getting the hair?"

"I did a bit of research," she replied, "all the people on my list sell their hair in shops like George's."

Ron furrowed his brow. "Do they?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, for… you know… this kind of things."

"They sell their hair so that people can transform into them when they are having sex?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, officially you can buy their hair so that you can transform into them for fun purposes like a house party or your child's birthday. Officiously , it's mostly for sex. But you have to sign a contract when you buy hair like that and they put you under a binding spell until you have used the hair. So you can't possibly employ it for mischief," she explained.

He had nodded. As always, Hermione had thought everything through.

"But I guess you can always go and ask Madam Rosmerta for a hair," she giggled, "she won't suspect anything at all."

Ron had glared at her at that time, mainly because she had been right. He had then decided, following Hermione's sensible suggestion, to go for the one person on that list that he didn't know personally: Glenda Chittock. Ginny had pulled some strings and had miraculously found them two tickets for a concert where the witch was going to appear for an interview. The tickets had cost them a fortune, since they included a backstage pass, but Hermione had assured Ron that it would have all been worth it.

It was only on the day of the concert that Ron had remembered that he had to work that night, sending Hermione into a fit of rage that only Ginny's proposal to go with her had managed to calm down.

"At last! I thought we would never get here!" exclaimed Ginny as she finally stopped in front of a door that read 'Weird Sisters – Private. Keep Out.' inside a star-shaped sign. "Who did Ron choose for you again?"

"Excuse me," said Hermione, leaning against the wall next to the door and catching her breath, "I chose for myself." She looked at her sister-in-law and shrugged her shoulders. "I went with the complete stranger. I just hope Ron chooses wisely." Hermione had sent her husband to buy a complete stranger's hair and gave him full discretionary power on the decision. She just hoped that his idea of 'handsome young man' was the same as hers. From his point of view, Ron was over the moon when he discovered that Gamble & Japes were selling the item he needed and that he didn't have to go to buy it from George.

"I understand," giggled Ginny, "I bet that, just for one night, you want someone who is not developing the same Butterbeer belly as his father…"

Hermione flushed. "Well, I find Ron's belly quite attractive," she mumbled. At that moment though, the door opened and a tall, darkish man with a strong jaw line looked down at the two women. "Yes?" he asked in a deep voice.

"We are here to see Ms. Glenda Chittock," said Ginny, raising her pass in front of the man's face. "I'm Harry Potter's wife."

The man looked unfazed by her introduction. "Wait here, please," he replied calmly, closing the door and disappearing inside the dressing room once more.

Hermione looked scandalized at Ginny.

"What?" asked Ginny. "Sometimes it works just fine if I mention that I'm Harry Potter's wife." She sighed. "Much more effectively than saying that I played Quidditch professionally."She crossed her arms. "Merlin! We won four European Cups while I played in the Holyhead Harpies!"

Hermione shook her head amused, but before she could say anything to make her sister-in-law feel better, the door opened again and the man told them to come in and to make it quick.

ooo

"Really?" asked Harry, chuckling and spluttering his Butterbeer on his way back from Ron's fridge. "You were thrown out of Glenda Chittock's dressing room?"

From the couch, Ginny nodded, laughing lightly, on the other hand, Hermione looked positively flustered. Ron wasn't laughing at all, on the contrary, he was feeling quite guilty, he sunk in the armchair with his hands clutched around his bottle of Butterbeer. All he had to do for Hermione was to buy the hair in Diagon Alley. She had to go and pull it out a woman, it didn't seem a fair trade to him.

"It was the Weird Sisters' dressing room and it is not funny," hissed Hermione, "we would have had a criminal record right now if they had pressed charges."

Harry laughed harder. "Just because you pulled one hair out of her precious head?"

"One hair?" giggled Ginny. "She tore a whole lock!"

Hermione flushed. "I was going for a hair, she… moved."

"And then you started a cat fight," said Harry, smiling. "And Ginny joined in."

"And the bodyguard too," added Ginny.

Harry sat down next to Ron. "No wands, no magic, nothing?"

Ginny shook her head. "Just hands, nails and hair." She pointed at her head where a whole lock was missing. Luckily, Hermione's bushy hair covered any bald spot that the fight might have left her with. "But it was fun!"

"If that's your idea of fun," hissed Hermione, crossing her legs and arms tightly.

"But you got the hair in the end, right?" asked Ron anxiously. He wouldn't have liked for Hermione to go through the same thing all over again. Or, Merlin forbid, he wouldn't have liked to have to do it himself in case she told him to go get the bloody hair without her!

"We got it," said Ginny as Hermione pulled a phial out of her pocket and placed it on the table for everyone to see. Ginny took it in her hands. "Her hair is flaming red." She examined it closely. "Actually, it looks a bit like mine, doesn't it?"

Ron grabbed it from her hands and looked at it. "It's nothing like yours," he said simply. "This is so much brighter and smoother."

Ginny glared at him, her hand going instinctively to her hair. "Why, thanks," she said sarcastically, before turning her attention to Hermione. "So, when are you going to try it?"

Hermione looked at Ron. "We don't know," she said quickly. "Maybe this weekend…" She shrugged. "The Polyjuice Potion is ready anyway."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, maybe, this weekend…"

Harry and Ginny exchanged a quick, knowing look. "We can take Rose," suggested Harry, with a smile.

"Yes, she can sleep at ours," agreed Ginny. "So her parents can have some kinky sex transformed into someone else…" She laughed.

Ron glared at her, but instead of replying something – or even thanking Harry and Ginny for offering to take Rose– he preferred to gulp down some more Butterbeer and try to forget that his sister and his best friend were talking about his sex life in front of him and, to top that, they seemed to enjoy themselves immensely.

ooo

"Dinner was very nice, Hermione, thank you," said Ron as he helped her cleaning the table. "You should make those mini quiches more often."

She took the plates her husband was passing her. "But then they wouldn't be special, Ron," she said matter-of-factly.

Ron nodded thoughtfully and checked the clock on the wall. "When do you want to start?" he asked, trying to sound cool despite the anxiety in his voice.

"As soon as I finish here," she replied sweetly. She did look much calmer than he was. Probably bottling up all her emotions for later on. He hoped she felt excited, though, and not uncomfortable like himself. Well, he was not uncomfortable, he just felt a bit sceptical about the whole thing.

"Right," she exclaimed as she gathered the table cloth and folded it neatly. "Ready?"

Ron stiffened. "Ready when you are," he said, forcing a smile with great difficulty.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "You know we don't have to do it, right? I mean, if you are not comfortable it would probably be wiser to abandon the whole idea and—"

"After all you've gone through for that hair?" he asked. "Of course we have to go through with it!"

"Listen, it won't work if you don't want it." She sighed. "I don't understand what the problem is, anyway."

He lowered his eyes. "Well, you know I'm not good with this kind of things," he blurted out, "I'm more of a let's go to bed, make love and fall asleep kind of guy."

"And that strategy is working… how?" she asked him, crossing her arms on her chest.

He leaned the back of his thighs against the table edge. "Okay, it's not working, but maybe this is not going to work either." He sighed. "Plus, I like you, so, I don't know how this is going to help."

"You like me?" she asked, flaring her nostrils. "Well, thank you, Ron, after four years of marriage I thought you loved me, but I suppose 'like' will have to do."

"I mean I like your body," he hurried to say. "Of course I _love_ you."

Hermione gave him a half-smile. "It's still going to be me. And it's only for an hour, it's not like it's forever."

Ron snorted. "Yes, but it's a bit like cheating…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Listen, you have my permission to cheat on me with… me."

He snorted again. "If you put it like that, you make me sound stupid."

She didn't reply, but she secretly agreed. "So?"

"Alright, let's do it," he said, trying to sound quite enthusiastic.

Hermione smiled happily and wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoes to kiss him. "I love you," she whispered.

"Love you back," he replied, his hands on her waist.

She let him go and smiled. She turned and opened a cupboard over the sink, drawing out two glasses filled with a disgusting, green, thick liquid. She gave one to Ron and kept one for herself. "Do you have the hair?" she asked expectantly.

Ron nodded. "It's on my bedside table," he replied, eyeing the liquid with revulsion, he remembered very well the taste of the Polyjuice Potion and was not too eager to drink it again.

"Okay, you go to our bathroom and I'll use the one down the hallway," she said, "and no vomiting on the floor is allowed. I don't want to spend most of the hour we have cleaning up your mess."

"Why can't we share our bathroom?" he asked puzzled.

Hermione shrugged a shoulder. "I don't want to see your transformation," she said, "and I don't want you to see mine. You know how ugly that is…"

He knew and now that he thought about it, he agreed. "Okay," he said, tightening his hand around the glass.

"Okay," repeated Hermione.

"So, here we go." He didn't move.

"Here we go," she repeated.

He still didn't move, so it was Hermione the one who walked away. "Come on, Ron," she encouraged him, "I wouldn't like if one of us changed back to his normal self right in the middle of it all."

He knew she was right, so as she disappeared into the guest bathroom he went to his room, put the hair into the glass, where it fizzled until it melt, and walked into their bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror. He was dressed with an oversized dinner suit, a new one that Hermione had bought to fit his transformed self – measures were on the package. Hermione herself was dressed with a sexy, short, black dress. A revealing thing that he had chosen for her. He hoped that it would have fit her figure when she changed into Glenda, but he wasn't sure.

He brought the glass to his mouth and inhaled the foul smell. _Merlin, what don't you do for your wife?_ He decided that the only way he would have drunk that was if he thought about the naughty things that were about to come. "Okay," he said out loud, "here way go, three… two… one…" He didn't move. "Bloody hell, Ronald Weasley! Three, two, one…" He downed the potion in one gulp, the disgusting taste filled his mouth, then his throat and finally his stomach. But it was only when it came back up to his nose that he knew he needed to throw up. He grabbed the edges of the basin and waited for his vomit, his throat contracting involuntarily. Luckily, despite the horrible taste, nothing came out of his mouth. He panted a bit and decided to raise his head and watch as his appearance changed.

Slowly his hair started to become blond, his blue eyes turned darker and he felt his torso and arms beefing up. His freckles disappeared and his nose became slightly smaller and straighter, his mouth became fuller and his jaw more prominent. But it was only after a long moment – made it even longer by the pain of the transformation – that he finally managed to have a very good look at his whole appearance.

The man looking back at him from the mirror was handsome, there was no mistake there. The dinner suit fitted him perfectly and he looked like he came out of the W.W.N. fashion program that his sister used to watch every Tuesday night. He brought his hands to his face and touched the warm and smooth skin. His blond hair was ruffled in a very fashionable way and he had the words 'Only you' tattooed on his neck, under his left ear. Suddenly, Ron was aware of how good looking this complete stranger was and felt a jolt of jealousy.

He wanted Hermione to enjoy herself, but at the same time, he didn't want her to get too much pleasure from this body. Or at least, not as much as she got from his own body. Yes, and he knew that this was the whole point of this game and how his musing sounded stupid even to himself.

Ron unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and discovered a sculpted abdomen that he himself had probably had only for a very short time in all his life – during the few months that he had followed a very strict training to become Auror – and that was now replaced by a bit of a belly on an otherwise quite lean figure. He flexed his arms to see the muscles jolt under the skin and grimaced at the mirror.

"Oh, right, you think you are such a good looking son of a witch, don't you?" he asked himself. "Let's see if you are good enough for… oh okay. Alright… not too bad," he said, peering inside his underpants.

He jumped when he heard the Grandfather Clock they had in the living room chiming eleven. He must have spent a good ten minutes there, ten minutes that he could have used to seduce his wife. _Hermione!_ Suddenly he remembered that soon she would have come out of the bathroom as Glenda Chittock and that he could do to her anything he wanted. She had given permission. Now that he had transformed, he felt how real this was and he was getting excited. He started to think about possible games and scenarios. They would have been two strangers; two complete strangers that knew each other's desires perfectly well. After all, this could have been a recipe for success.

He buttoned his shirt up and smiled cockily. He walked out of the bathroom, expecting Hermione – or better, Glenda – waiting for him on the bed. She wasn't. He looked puzzled, but decided that there was no time to wait for her there, the clock was ticking. He went to the guest bathroom and knocked on the door.

"Hermione?" he called, his voice unchanged. "You all right?"

He heard her moan.

"Hermione?" he called again. "Are you okay?" He tried to open the door, but it was locked. "The door is locked. Can you let me in?"

He heard her standing up and walking towards the door. "Ron, maybe you were right," she whined, "maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

Ron looked at the door in disbelief. "What?" he exclaimed, his voice slightly altered with rage. "Are you kidding me? Because I don't want to look like this for an hour for nothing." He knocked again. "I thought _you_ wanted this."

He heard her sighing. "I did, but…"

"No buts, just come out," he said seriously. "I'm sure you are going to like what you see and… vice-versa."

Hermione took some seconds to reply softly, "Close your eyes, first."

"Done," he said, impatiently, shutting his eyes. He heard the key turning in the hole, the door opening and Hermione's steps as she came to stand in front of him. "Can I look now?" he asked, excitement in his voice.

Hermione took a sharp breath. "Just remember, this is still me, okay?"

He smiled. "I know," he said before his eyelids fluttered open. He started looking at her from her legs up, slowly, indecently, caressing her body with his eyes like a lion would do with a gazelle. Glenda was even better than he had expected. She had smooth, white skin; supple legs that went on forever; a flat stomach and a round buttock; two full breasts and white, skinny arms. Finally he reached her collarbone, where a splash of freckles crowned her milky skin and a frame of flaming, red hair reached her shoulders.

"I like what I see, so far," he whispered, and he was about to take a step forward and grab her waist when he finally saw her face and all his excitement dissipated like fog on a windy day. He took a couple of steps back and hit the wall, his back sliding down as he sat on the floor.

Hermione smiled weakly. "It's still me," she said in her own voice.

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "But you are my sister," he murmured and felt a jolt of disgust at what he had been thinking. Why did he have to start looking at her from bottom up? Couldn't he start from her face like every normal person?

Hermione kneeled in front of him. Her breasts pressing on Ron's legs through the sexy dress. "Ron, I'm sorry," she said frantically, "I must have gotten the wrong hair when we were fighting…"

He looked at her and then away. "I should have known," he said bitterly. "You have a history with Polyjuice Potion. You can use the most complicated spells, you can brew the trickiest potions and solve the hardest problems, but you can never get the hair right." Before she could protest, he took off his black dinner jacket and handed it her. "Wear this, please," he asked her feebly.

Hermione looked down at her body and flushed. She took the jacket and wore it, clutching it shut on the front. "You look very handsome," she said, attempting a smile and pressing her hand on his cheek.

"Thank you," he said, patting the hand awkwardly.

She tried to smile seductively and leaned forward to kiss him, weirdly enough without expecting him to try to escape her advances. He did escape her advances, moving back from her and placing a big and warm hand on her face, covering her mouth and cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said, "but what are you trying to do?"

Hermione looked sheepishly at him. "I'm trying to kiss you," she mumbled from behind his hand.

He snorted. "And scar me for life?" he asked. "I hardly think so." He pushed her back a little and she fell on the balls of her feet. He stood up and disappeared into the living room.

"Well, that's all?" she asked him, raising her voice a little. "I've just ingested a disgusting potion for nothing?" She followed him into the kitchen.

Ron grabbed a pack of Chocolate Frogs that they kept as a reward for Rose when she was good and opened one, he managed to grab a bite before it jumped away. "I hope that's not anger in your voice," he hissed, "because, if you haven't noticed, I am not the one who screwed up tonight!"

Hermione crossed her arms and looked terribly like Ron's mother. "Yes, I screwed up," she admitted, "but we can still manage. We can have sex with the lights off. Can't we?"

"No!" exclaimed Ron. "Sex is off the table as long as you are in Ginny's body."

"That means an hour," she reminded him.

"Forty-five minutes, actually," he corrected her, nodding towards the Grandfather Clock. "And I would appreciate if you'd wear something less revealing as long as you are in that body."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay," she snorted as she went to their room to change. She came back a few minutes later with a big, shapeless pyjamas covered in ducks. "Happy?" she asked as she sat next to her husband on the couch and crossed her arms.

"No," he said, biting off the head of another Chocolate Frog. "Happy would be this handsome stranger having sex on our bed with Glenda Chittock at this very moment."

"I'm sorry," she said irritated, "how many times do I have to say it?"

"As many as needed," he replied sourly. "You just turned what could have been an exciting night into my worst nightmare."

She opened her mouth to tell him something, but then shut it before any sound could come out. Probably – hopefully – she understood why he was so crossed. "Do you want to do something else?" she finally asked.

"Like what?" he asked back, without looking at her.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Playing Wizard Chess?" she suggested.

ooo

"Really?" asked Harry in disbelief as he handed Rose's bag of toys to Ron. "You ended up playing Wizard Chess all night long? Instead of having sex?"

Ron glared at him. "Did you want me to have sex with your wife?" He swallowed. "No, wait, did you want me to have sex with my sister?" The very thought of it nauseated him.

Harry chuckled. "No, but…"

"Then shut it, Potter, I don't want to hear another word about last night." And Harry couldn't do much except watch his friend as he Apparated from his house and, once he was gone, burst into laughter.


	3. III

**Author's Notes:** I love this chapter so very much, it makes me laugh a great deal. I hope you'll like it too! If you do, please do leave me a review... come on, don't be shy.. :) Next week the rating will go up, so get ready... For now, enjoy as Ron and Hermione delve into the pleasures of bondage.. PS-To Winged-panther1, I'll accept tacos only with a generous portion of guacamole on the side!

* * *

III.

Ron walked alone into his brother's joke shop.

Hermione had said that she didn't want to be seen buying bondage tricks at the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. First of all, she would never hear the end of it from George and secondly, she was a respectable member of the Ministry and didn't want anybody to know that she had an active, and kinky, sex life. Naturally, everybody knew she had an active sex life after Rose was born, but still, she didn't want them to know that she was kinky. Especially because she wasn't.

Ron didn't really mind. The only person he didn't want to know – apart from his mother – was George, but he knew how to dodge his brother and any uncomfortable questions he might have asked him. Or so he had thought. Anyway, right at that moment, George was showing some of the new products to a Ministry employer who had to test their reliability before giving him permission to sell them. He would have been busy all day long probably, since he had had a creativity boost in the past months.

So, Ron had walked as quietly and invisibly as possible towards the adult corner, and had started to browse with nonchalance, strong in his belief that nobody would ever disturb him. His belief lasted less than a few minutes.

"Well, well, well."

Ron froze, a pair of pink, furry handcuffs in his hands. He turned to face his older brother, who was staring up at him with a grin on his face.

"And what do we have here?" asked George. "Someone who's looking for a way to spice up his sex life?"

Ron, with as much dignity as he could muster, put the handcuffs back on the shelf and crossed his arms. "No, I'm just checking if you changed anything in the shop since I left," he replied haughtily.

George laughed a laughter that it used to echo Fred's when he was still alive. "A little bird told me that someone isn't getting any and needs a little help from his brother…"

Ron closed his eyes. This was not happening. "Well, I guess Ginny has just been uninvited from my annual family Quidditch competition."

George chuckled. "Oh, come on," he said in a tone that didn't make Ron feel any better. "We just want to help our little brother."

"You can help me by evaporating and forgetting that I'm here," hissed Ron in return.

George grinned at Ron. He took a step forward, put an arm around Ron's shoulders and turned him around. "Come on, my dear, perverted, friend," he said out loud, "let me take you on a trip to our most famous bondage supplies."

A woman who was walking by with her child looked disgusted and disconcerted at them, Ron caught her glare and decided that he would have rather wanted the Earth to open up and swallow him now than walk around through shelves of handcuffs, gags, ropes and so on and so forth with George by his side.

"I hate you," Ron managed to mumble as George dragged him towards a shelf full of colourful ropes, neatly coiled up in transparent plastic bags. On the packages it read something different for every rope, depending on the colour – and, Ron noticed, on the material and the length as well. There was the brown _Doggy-Style Leash_ that claimed to be hyper-resistant and to make people bark when they reached their orgasms (_for the most animalistic of sex_); the _Snake of Passion_, of a green colour, that promised that once it was put in contact with the naked skin, it moved independently, sliding on the person and trying to bite (_without_ _causing any physical damage, only psychological_). There was also the _Knife_, red and short, it constricted the limbs of the person who was wearing it until it drew blood.

Ron looked at those models in horror. Blood was not exactly his ideal of a sexy night; a snake… no thank you, not after Nagini at least; and barking? He couldn't really understand how that would have made their passion come back.

"Seen anything that you like?" asked George.

Ron turned to look at him and noticed that his arms were full of similar objects. "We have a blindfold that makes you see everything except the person in front of you," tried to advertise George, "or we have a feather that keeps tickling the two lovers while they are in the act."

Ron stared as George showed him a picture of a man and woman in their underwear laughing as they tried to kiss in bed. He raised his eyes on his brother and shook his head. "I would rather buy without your help," he said sharply. "It's quite a private matter."

George smiled. "Private? It was in Ginny's newsletter."

Ron's blue eyes widened. "She has a newsletter about this?" he roared.

"I'm joking, naturally," he said matter-of-factly, "no need to get all worked up." He put some things back on the shelves, but Ron's relief was short lived when he decided to grab some more objects and shove them under his brother's nose.

"Pumpkin flavoured handcuffs?" he asked, showing them to him. "You can chew on them for hours." Ron shook his head. "Cat o' nine tails?" he continued, "and these are real cat tails, the right amount of softness and painfulness." The tails moved and beckoned at Ron.

"I don't know," he said annoyed, "I really think I would really like to have some time to browse through your articles alone, George."

George chuckled. "Come on, Ickle Ronniekins," he said, "you know this is not going to happen."

Ron looked at him and if a glare could kill his brother would be already dead. "I'm sure you have other things to do, more important than this."

"Nothing is more important than embarrassing you."

Ron clenched his fists. "Really?" he asked. "How about I tell everybody that you invented the Patented Daydream Pirates Charm and use it on a weekly basis?"

A man who was walking by, stopped and looked at them with a puzzled look. Ron smiled satisfied, but his smile soon turned to disbelief when that man stepped towards George all excited. "Really?" he asked, "I love that Charm. I have always dreamed of being a Pirate. Thank you for creating such a lovely way to escape my dull life."

George smiled back. "You are very welcome, Sir," he said, shaking his hand. "How about a complimentary set of Pumpkin handcuffs?" He placed the handcuffs right in the man's hands and nodded. The man thanked him again and walked away whistling a Pirate song.

"You were saying?" asked George to an exasperated Ron.

"Never mind," hissed Ron.

"Right," said George, "I believe we were having a look at the cat, weren't we?"

Ron snorted. "You know what?" he bit out, "forget it. I don't want you here while I choose the perfect bondage accessory for Hermione and me." He took a couple of steps towards the exit and stopped. "I will find something else at Zonko's." He knew he had said the magic words.

George jumped in front of Ron before he could walk past the Age Line. "Don't say that name in my shop," he grumbled. "Are you crazy to publicize my rival here?"

Ron crossed his arms. "Then leave me alone," he said matter-of-factly.

George flared his nostrils. "Okay," he hissed, "okay. I'm going." He waited a few seconds, looking Ron straight in his eyes, before he finally went. He was probably waiting for an apology from his younger brother, but that never came.

Finally, Ron was able to browse through the kinky accessories with his fellow perverted costumers alone. Without his brother constantly buggering him, he was free to analyze every object and decide what Hermione would like and what she wouldn't like. He knew what he liked, but it had to work both ways.

He decided that the ropes were promising, if not for the fact that the ones he had already seen were weird, at least because there was a huge variety amongst which to choose. Apart from the three he had already seen, he noticed one called _Burning Fire_, that became hotter and hotter until one reached his peak and the _Icy Feeling_ that, on the contrary, became colder. All very interesting, and all to fit kinks and tastes that Ron didn't even know existed, let alone experienced. What got his attention, though, was the _Adjustable Pleasure_, a brownish, extremely short piece of rope, that changed material – _from rough rope to silky velvet to serve every taste_ –, colour – _all the colours of the rainbows included!_ – and length – _from a foot to a hundred for complete wrap_. Seemed a good option for Ron, and he could already see Hermione tied up to the posts of their bed and himself doing whatever he—

"You're imagining your girlfriend, mate?" asked a rough voice beside him.

Ron turned to stare at the face of someone who might have started to cross Age Lines a couple of days before. "My wife," he said gruffly. "Excuse me," he added, walking away quickly with the _Adjustable Pleasure _in his hands.

He tried to hide his purchase as much as possible without giving the impression of stealing it, but he knew that every attempt to discretion was futile when he saw that George was waiting for him at the till.

He gestured for Ron to skip the queue and when he refused, George called him with his voice magically amplified. Humiliated, Ron walked to the till. "You found everything you needed in the adult corner, Sir?" he asked, his voice still amplified.

The queue murmured behind them. Ron glared at him, he took out his wand and pointed it to George. "Finite Incantatem," he muttered, making George's voice come back to normal.

George cleared his throat. "I see you don't know how to have fun, Sir," he said, "maybe this item you are purchasing will help you loosen up a bit." He seemed to think about what he had just said and burst into laughter. "You need to be tied up in order to loosen up!"

Ron grimaced. "Yes, hilarious, can you tell me how much it costs so that I can get out of here." _Never to return again_, he added in his mind.

"I'm sorry, but I can't possibly let you take this out of my shop before verifying that everything is in order," said George, opening the package.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron irritated. "Everything _is_ in order!"

"That is for me to decide," said George knowingly, proceeding to verify the content.

Ron decided that he wouldn't have had any of that. "Give it back," he hissed, grabbing the rope and stuffing it back into the package.

George put his hands in his pockets. "Well, someone is a bit on edge."

"Just tell me how much," he hissed.

George started tapping the till, but stopped half-way through. "You know what? Take this," he said, taking something from his pocket and putting it in front of Ron. "It's a gag, just in case Hermione doesn't shut up during sex."

Ron pushed it back towards George. "No, thank you," he said, flushing even more.

"It's complimentary," replied George, pushing it towards Ron.

"I don't think it would be appreciated," hissed Ron, pushing it once again towards his brother.

"I'm sure it will," said George gingerly, picking it up and putting it in a bag. "Here you are!" He smiled broadly as Ron paid. "Hope to see you soon in my shop!" he called behind his brother as he left.

ooo

"That must have been so embarrassing," said Hermione as she served Ron some mashed potatoes. She felt a bit guilty, Rose loved mashed potatoes and she had chosen the night her little daughter was at Ginny and Harry's to cook them. "George should be kept under a Silencing Charm all the time when he is in his shop."

Ron smiled. He agreed. "Great minds think alike, then."

Hermione smiled back. "So, can I ask you what did you buy?" she questioned, poking the peas in her plate. "Or does it have to be a surprise until tonight."

Ron put a mouthful of roast beef and mashed potatoes in his mouth, but that did not prevent him from replying. "Suvpvise."

ooo

Hermione looked at the piece of rope in her hands. Short, rough, brown. Altogether uninviting. She put it in her lap, which was covered in a silky night gown with a bright floral pattern, and picked up the gag. It was just a white sphere. As simple as that. No strings attached, no fancy features. The thing that set it apart from a Muggle gag was that this secured itself in one's mouth until a password was spoken out loud. One had to decide the password before the sex started, and only one password was allowed, but Hermione knew that since she had read every single piece of instruction that had been put in both packages. There was no way they were going to have problems that night.

Ron walked out of the bathroom. His milky skin was covered in his gown down to his knees, his chest was visible where the gown parted and his hair was a messy, flaming nest of locks.

"Are you ready?" he asked in a business-like way that made Hermione feel uncomfortable and less secure all together.

"I am," she replied, putting the rope on the bed and standing up. "We need to find a password for this first." She raised the gag in front of her husband.

Ron grabbed it. "Hmm, how about 'Ron is sexy'?"

Hermione snorted. "Please, something that doesn't make me laugh during sex," she replied, sarcastically.

Ron pretended to be hurt. "Wow, wrong answer, Mrs. Weasley, but thank you for playing with us."

"How about…" she asked, taking the gag into her hands. "'I love you'?"

Ron looked unconvinced. "Isn't that too romantic for the kind of sex that we are going to have?" he asked.

Hermione crossed her arms. "First of all, you can have romantic bondage sex," she said, unsure if that were true at all. "Second, if by any chances my husband wants to say 'I love you' to me, I can reply to him."

"I don't know," he continued, "I thought it should have been something funny and sexy…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Listen, if you want to use some dirty word you already know that I am not going to like that, right? 'I love you' is perfect and if you can't see it, I will register the password and put it in your mouth to show you what a great idea this is." She looked at him cunningly. "But then you have to make me say that 'I love you'."

Ron walked towards her and smiled. "You would say that straight away, you wouldn't be able to resist," he said in a low, silky voice, his hand sliding down his wife's back. "You love me, you love me, you love me."

Hermione put a hand on his chest and took a step back. "Watch me," she said. She pressed the gag in three different places and brought it to her mouth, saying, "I love you." The gag didn't seem to change particularly, but before either of them could analyze it, Hermione grabbed a flabbergasted Ron and shoved the gag in his mouth. The ball increased its diameter, accommodating to Ron's mouth.

"Mgnph!" he said as the ball parted his lips and secured itself to his mouth. "Mhgnh!" Every time Ron tried to say something his salivation increased and the ball rolled in his mouth.

Hermione bit her bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh. "Oh my, Ron," she said, placing a hand on Ron's cheek, "we've finally found something that shuts you up!"

Ron glared at her, pointing to his mouth. "Ghmph!" he said.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," Hermione replied, amused.

He glared even more darkly. Hermione was obviously the only one to find that amusing. He tapped the ball and gestured for it to be taken out.

"Not that quickly," said Hermione, bringing her hands to the belt that kept her gown closed. "First, you tie me and then I de-gag you."

Ron seemed to ponder it and to decide against any more protestation. It was clear that he was not going to win against Hermione. Maybe it was that, maybe it was the fact that Hermione had opened her gown and she was now standing before him in her lingerie. A small, lacy, black bra and coordinated thong that let very little room for imagination. Some saliva literally dropped on Ron's chin, partly because of the gag and partly because of his increased salivation at the view of Hermione's body.

She looked at him with a satisfied grin. Even after she had gone through a pregnancy, she still got it. "So," she said, brushing the bed with her fingers. "How shall we do it?"

Ron, unable to talk, gestured for the bed, he moved to the side opposite his wife and grabbed Hermione's wrist, guiding her gently on the mattress. Without a sound, he made her lie down, his hands wandering lightly on her warm skin. He seemed to have forgotten the gag for now, but Hermione was waiting impatiently for his lips to trail down her body. His fingertips indulged lustily on the edge of her thong, but before he could explore south, Hermione grabbed his hand and gave him the rope. She didn't say anything, but nodded towards the rope and Ron seemed to understand, because he grabbed her left hand and stretched it towards the bedpost on the extreme left of the bed. He started to wrap the rope around her wrist and as he did so the rope changed, from brown it became jet black, turning as shining and as soft as silk. The more he wrapped it around her wrist the longer it got, so that Ron could not see the end of it. He wrapped the silky material around the bedpost and secured Hermione's wrist with a strong knot.

Hermione tried to wriggle her hand free, but the knot was too strong for her. She nodded and smiled to Ron. "Looks like you know how to tie a woman to a bed," she teased him.

Ron looked at her and tried to smile, but the gag didn't let him. Instead, he kneeled on the bed, a leg on each side of Hermione's waist, looked down at her with lust-filled eyes and grabbed her other wrist. The rope was becoming long enough to reach the other side of the bed and Ron wrapped Hermione's right hand the same way he did the left.

Once the second hand was secured and Hermione was immobilized from the waist up, he looked first at the rope and then at her legs. It took him some time to make up his mind and decide he wanted to tie up her legs as well.

Hermione looked at the rope that was now expanding all around her, she was not too keen on all this black satin uselessly sitting on the bed, she was envisioning scenarios of Ron getting tangled in it as he made love to her. Maybe her husband could be a bit creative and do something with it. "Isn't there too much rope around me?" she asked him right before bursting into laughter when Ron tickled her foot as he wrapped the rope around it.

He looked at her, with his right index finger he touched his nose twice and pointed towards Hermione. He agreed. He got off the bed and went to the vanity table in the corner of the room. He grabbed his wand and pointed it to the rope. "Dmghn!" he spluttered, making Hermione melt in a fit of giggles. He glared at her and put his wand down, grabbing instead a pair of clippers.

"Are you sure we should cut it?" asked Hermione, without knowing why she should be worried. Nowhere it said that they should have not cut the rope, she would have read it.

Ron nodded seriously.

"I thought you could have used the rope to wrap it on my stomach or around my breasts," she suggested, flushing a little. And she had thought that in this very situation she was well past flushing!

Ron shrugged his shoulders to dismiss the idea. He probably just wanted the gag out of his mouth and to start whatever they were going to start. He brought the clippers to the satin and slowly and meticulously started to cut the material. Hermione had to admit that it was giving away pretty easily under the clippers, and she too couldn't wait for the two of them to be set and ready. So she shut up and decided that it was better if she let him work.

The ribbon creaked softly as the small scissors cut through it, but when Ron reached the end of the rope it hissed and cracked open menacingly.

Hermione looked puzzled at Ron. It hissed and cracked? She glanced at the rope, the two endings that Ron had just cut were pushing their heads together, as if to try to merge in one piece once again. When they understood that they couldn't fuse again they turned towards Ron. Ron took a step back, his eyes wide as the rope – which had now become two ropes - tried to catch him.

"Waheph?" he asked, looking at Hermione.

The ropes moved towards her and tickled her sides. She wriggled on the bed, and that was definitely the one thing that she shouldn't have done since the more she moved the more the ropes tighten around her body. "It's like the Devil's Snare," she said, as the ropes wrapped more tightly around her. She stopped moving and the ropes slowed down, even though they were not really stopping or even releasing her a little. "No, it's not," she concluded. "This thing isn't stopping." She glared at Ron. "I told you not to cut it!"

Ron glared back at her. He wasn't going to let her blame him for this. "Mnhph!" he said, pointing to the gag.

"I love you! I love you!" she cried as the rope continued to creep around her body. Up her legs, down her arms, around her breasts, tight around her waist, over her thong. She squirmed every time it tightened around her most sensitive areas. "Do something, Ron!"

There was no reply. She looked up at him and her eyes widened. "I love you!" she repeated dumbly. "Why isn't it working? I love you!"

The gag didn't move from Ron's mouth, it only rolled and splashed his saliva here and there. Ron put two fingers in his mouth and tried to get it out manually. It didn't bring him any result except for a great deal of pain.

"Hmnph!" he spluttered, angrily.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" retorted Hermione sourly. "I set the password all right!" The rope tightened around her body, and as she looked down now she saw that her body was covered almost completely in rope and said rope was starting to change. From the black shiny satin to the brown rough rope to a cold and thick chain to red plastic and so on and so forth as if out of control. "Do something," she said, half scared and half annoyed, before a piece of rope covered her mouth.

"Mnhph," said Ron weakly.

"Mnhph," replied Hermione. She widened her eyes and twitched her nose, moving her lips from right to left.

Ron walked closer, he extended a hand and grabbed the rope, pulling it from Hermione's mouth. "Do something!" she said, unsure of what he might have done anyway. "You have to—mphgh!" The rope was back on her mouth.

Ron went to move it again, but this time the rope attached to her cheek when he pulled and threw itself to Ron's hand when he moved away, very much like a snake would do. "It doesn't have teeth, Ron," said Hermione as her mouth was now free. "Don't be afraid." She sounded annoyed.

"Mhnphn!" said Ron, grabbing the rope forcefully.

"Yes, you are afraid of a stupid rope," she retorted, before Ron spluttered something at her and let go of the rope, again, this time on purpose. "Hphmn!"

They stood there for a while, both too stubborn to do anything, all they did was to mmmph at each other every now and then. Their eyes burning with rage. Finally, after a good ten minutes of this nonsensical behaviour, Ron dragged his feet to the bed and moved the rope another time.

She looked at him crossly. "You have to go see George," she hissed.

Ron pointed at the gag his nostrils flaring.

Hermione jerked her head. "Well, what about me?" she cried. "I'm stuck to the bed!"

Ron shook his head. Then pointed at Hermione's body.

"What?" she asked sharply.

He nodded more insistently.

"What?" she asked again. "Get a quill and a piece of parchment, for Merlin's sake!"

That was quite brilliant, Ron had to give her that. He slapped the rope back on her mouth and grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment from Hermione's desk. He scribbled something on it and showed it to Hermione.

_I don't want George to see you like this,_ it read.

Ron grabbed the rope and Hermione shouted, "I'd rather have him seeing me like this than staying on this bed forever."

He kept the rope in his hand and wrote something else.

_How do I tell him what happened? I'm wearing a gag if you haven't noticed._

"Write to him, like you are writing to me," she said and it took her a good deal of self-control not to add the word 'idiot'.

Ron flushed.

_Okay,_ he wrote. He let go of the rope, which went back to Hermione's mouth and looked at her, his wand in his hand. He waved goodbye to his wife and was about to Apparate when he noticed her writhing furiously. He rushed at her side and grabbed the rope from her mouth.

"For Merlin's beard," she bit out, "wear something!"

ooo

Ron Apparated in George's living room without as much as a notice. Naturally, etiquette dictated that he should have Apparated in a bush near the front door and then knocked on the door, but he had no time for etiquette nor other shenanigans. He needed to talk – write, in this case – to George and drag him to his house if that were necessary.

George's living room was deserted. Ron was not surprised. Being it almost midnight, he imagined that Fred and Roxanne were sound asleep – as Rose surely was at Harry and Ginny's – and that George and Angelina were probably going to bed at this very moment. He pondered what to do. There was no way he would have been able to attract their attention without them wanting to hex him before they actually noticed it was him. He could have sent them his Jack Russell Patronus, if it weren't for the fact that the gag in his mouth reduced him to silence and he had never been an expert of non-verbal spells. Plus, he just wanted to barge into George's room and make roll him out of bed, because if it weren't for him he wouldn't be standing in his living room at midnight, with a gag in his mouth while his wife was tied to their bed.

He started to climb up the stairs. George and Angelina's room was the first door on the left. Ron put his hand on the handle, but on second thought he decided that he wasn't too keen on maybe stumbling upon George and Angelina while they were in the middle of something. Angelina wouldn't have been too happy either and that would have been one awkward Christmas Dinner that they would spend next year.

He didn't really care about waking them up or disturbing them in any way, though. Well, he would have apologized to Angelina, but it was not his problem if the woman had married a wart.

Ron took a deep breath, sucking in some saliva, and banged his fist with force on the door. He was ready to shout something, but was reminded by the ball and the saliva that had dropped on his chin that he couldn't.

He heard hustling and steps on the floor. Then the door swung open and, "Expelliarmus!" someone screamed. His wand flew against Roxanne's bedroom door while Ron himself was pushed against the wall by the spell. He moaned out in pain as a painting fell from the wall and landed straight on his head, shattering the glass all around him.

"Ron?" exclaimed Angelina, surprised. Her wand still in the air.

"Oh, Ron!" added George, walking to him and picking up the painting. "This was an expensive piece of art, how could you?"

Ron glared at him. "Mhnphg!" he spluttered, shaking the glass from his hair and shoulders as he stood up.

"Sorry? I didn't quite get it," said George, snickering.

Angelina went to retrieve Ron's wand and gave it to him. "I'm so sorry, Ron," she said, "but you scared us."

"I was not scared," pointed out George.

Angelina snorted. "Right, you scared _me_," she continued, looking at her brother-in-law. "What do you have in your mouth?"

Ron took out parchment and quill and wrote furiously against the wall.

"_It's your__ husband's doing_," Angelina read out loud. She looked at George seriously. "What did you do?" she asked, sighing.

"I didn't do anything!" he said, trying to sound as innocent as possible. "Ron came to my shop to buy some items for his and Hermione's libido and I sold them to him."

Ron flushed red and if a glare could kill George would have been dead for the second time. He pushed the parchment into the wall and wrote on it with so much force to puncture the parchment and write on the wall.

"_Will you please shut up, George?_" read Angelina. "He is right."

George looked outraged. "What? He first blames me and then he doesn't want me to defend myself."

Ron rolled his eyes then looked at Angelina. He tried to mouth 'help', but didn't quite succeed because she just looked back at him with her face deep in concentration. He decided to keep writing, maybe explaining his woes. He showed the parchment to Angelina.

"_George must have tampered with this gag, because Hermione's password didn't work_," she read, "_and Hermione is tied up in bed and I'm not able to get rid of the rope_."

Angelina looked at George. "What in Merlin's name did you do?" she asked her husband, tired more than angry or worried.

George grinned. "Just a little revenge for the way Ron treated me in my shop," he confessed.

Ron widened his eyes and turned to scribble some more. This time his writing was all messy and almost illegible.

"_Revenge? You were the one embarrassing me in front of the other customers!_" read George in a mocking, high pitched voice. "Well, I was just trying to help!"

Ron took a sharp breath. He grabbed his wand and waved it in front of George. Some red sparkles flew from it and landed on George's chest.

"Ouch!" the man said, looking at the places where the sparkles bore holes into his pyjamas. "That actually hurt."

Ron looked satisfied and pointed to his gag and then to his wand. The message was clear, either get rid of the gag or I'll make your pyjamas look like a colander.

George rolled his eyes. "Ron Weasley has a teeny-weeny… brain."

Ron looked furious, he raised his wand to point it towards George and hit him some more with red sparkles, but instead of doing so, he almost chocked on the gag that had suddenly shrunk to its original size and was ready to be spluttered out.

He coughed and spat it out much unceremoniously, saliva trailing on the floor behind the ball. His mouth finally closed and only now he noticed the discomfort and pain that the gag had produced into his mouth.

"Was that the password?" asked Angelina, unimpressed.

George smiled and stepped towards her, he circled her shoulders and grabbed her chin, making her look at him. "It's not my fault if your husband is a genius," he said, huskily, then he leaned in to kiss her.

She placed her hand on his chest and looked at him. "No, no," she said, simply.

"No, no?" he asked deluded.

"If I could, I would ground you," she replied calmly.

"You should ground him!" exclaimed Ron, his voice hoarse and his face still red for the chocking scare.

George grinned. "That's a miracle, he can talk!"

Ron shot him a glare. "Just tell me what to do with the rope before I hex you," he rasped.

"That depends on what you did," George said, seriously. "My items can be pretty unforgiving if they are mistreated."

Ron grumbled. "I cut it," he confessed.

George's eyes widened in a very theatrically way. "You cut it?" he asked, raising his voice. "You cut it? You cut my poor rope? Oh, poor rope."

Ron seemed ready to kill. "George, I swear…"

"Calm down," he replied, "everybody knows you shouldn't cut a rope. Didn't you read the instructions?"

"There were no instructions," hissed Ron, "Hermione would have known."

George patted his forehead. "Ah, right, your instructions are—" He took something from his pocket. "—here!" he said, handing Ron a small piece of paper that said 'Instructions'. It only had three points and the first one was 'Never cut the rope'.

Angelina shook her head softly. "Why is it in your pyjamas pocket?" she asked.

"I took it when he was at the till, and carried it since. I just wanted to be ready in case Ron was coming with some sort of problem," he confessed, "I just couldn't imagine that it would have been this hilarious."

Ron's eyes flashed and as he jumped on George – forgetting completely about magic and his wand – he decided that he wanted him to at least come out with a black eye.

"George! Ron!" cried Angelina as the two brothers rolled on the floor. "Stop this at once!" She looked as they hit a table and a precious vase fell on the floor and shattered into pieces. She rolled her eyes when Roxanne and Fred started to cry in their bedrooms awoken by the noise.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she yelled and the two men stopped their assault and lay there. "You are just like children," she hissed to them, pushing an incredibly heavy Ron off her husband. She waved her wand and lifted the spell.

"Did you just petrified us?" asked Ron, standing up and rubbing his head confused.

"I did," she said fiercely, "You are impossible." She looked at her husband. "You tell your brother how to untie Hermione."

George leaned against the wall to stand up. "Well, I would have to go with him and—"

"No," she cut him off, "I'm going with him, you stay with the children and put them back to sleep."

George opened his mouth to reply, but looked very much like a boy being punished by his mother. "Okay," he finally agreed. "One person has to stroke the rope and the other puts it in a box or something."

"What kind of box?" asked Ron sourly.

"Any kind of box," replied George, "as long as it has a lid that can be closed. Then you seal it and take it back to the shop for repairing."

"I don't want it back!"

"Well, then you take it back to the shop for refunding."

Ron seemed to relax. "That's more like it," he agreed.

"Great," said Angelina, "let's go, Ron." She linked her arm to his and looked at George. "They better be asleep when I'm back."

George smiled and waved as Ron and Angelina Apparated from the landing.

As it was Angelina the one who was actually Apparating – dragging Ron with her – they arrived right outside the house.

"Come on," said Ron, preparing for the next Apparition that would have brought them inside.

"Wait!" said Angelina, stopping him.

Ron looked at her expectantly. She should have had a very good reason for delaying Hermione's release. "Yes?" he asked as patiently as he could.

"Thank you," she said, lowering her eyes.

"Pardon?" he asked, confused. "Thank you for what?"

"You are the only one that doesn't act like George is in constant need of compassion since… well, since it happened."

Ron flushed. "That's okay," he mumbled.

"You are the only one with whom he behaves like this," she whispered, smiling slightly. "You know, as if Fred were still here."

Ron felt a bit uncomfortable. The conversation had reached an unexpected gloomy point, so different from a few minutes ago when he was rolling on the floor with his older brother. He decided that he had to light the mood. "Well, lucky me," he said weakly, smiling.

Angelina smiled back. "Right," she said. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Let's go," she added, "I believe we have someone to untie."

They Apparated in Ron and Hermione's bedroom and, to their surprise, found a soundly asleep Hermione. She was still wrapped in the black rope, but looked at least resigned if not peaceful.

"Get a box," Angelina told Ron in a hushed tone.

"Where?"

Angelina looked at him weirdly. "It's your house."

He nodded, even though he knew that he had no idea where to look. Hermione was the one keeping everything tidy. When he came back he was holding a cooking pot with a stainless steel lid.

"I don't think Hermione would be too happy if you used her pot," she pointed out.

"She will be happy enough when she'll be free."

Angelina nodded, then she started caressing the rope on Hermione's mouth. Three things happened: the rope moved and purred, Hermione woke up looking a bit confused and Ron did his best to collect the rope into the pot.

"Angelina?" asked Hermione, who was surely expecting George. Probably she was relieved because as the rope disentangled from her body her lingerie became more and more visible.

Angelina smiled. "I'm sorry for this Hermione," she said, "George just wanted to have fun at his brother's expenses." She continued to pet the rope like a snake and smiled. "I thought best for him to stay home. I didn't want you to hex my husband."

Hermione tried to smile. "That is wise," she said. "Thank you, Angelina."

"It's the least I can do," she replied. As she started on the second half of the rope.

Ron and Hermione didn't talk. They didn't even look at each other except for some furtive glances stolen here and there when the other wasn't looking. Probably Hermione wanted to scream at Ron and Ron wanted to tell her how all the fault was George's, not a discussion they wanted to have in front of Angelina.

"Here you go," said Angelina, untying Hermione's wrist. "These were the last few feet of rope." She handed it to Ron, who closed the pot and gave it to Angelina.

"What are you doing with my pot, Ron?" asked Hermione, sitting up and covering herself with the duvet.

Ron rolled his eyes. Somehow he knew he had done something wrong. "Giving it to Angelina," he explained, "George will take the rope to the shop."

"Your mother gave that pot to me," replied Hermione haughtily. "What will she think when she finds out that you gave it away."

"Then keep the damn pot and put the rope into another box!" cried Ron, grabbing the pot from Angelina's hands and putting it on Hermione's vanity table.

"Well, I better go," said Angelina, shyly.

Hermione smiled tiredly. "Absolutely, thank you, Angelina," she said, "you were such a darling."

Angelina smiled back. "Good night, then," she wished both of them.

"Good night," chorused Ron and Hermione as she Apparated.

Once they were left alone they looked at each other in the most annoyed way possible. It was clear that sex was off the table that night. Hermione lay down and covered herself with the duvet, she rolled over and gave her back to Ron as he divested and got into bed.

He lied down on his back and whispered, "I don't suppose you want to—"

"No."

"Me neither."

ooo

"Tell me it isn't true."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, but it is true," he said to his best-friend. "We didn't have sex, our experience with bondage was traumatic, we haven't talked to each other in two days and Hermione lost the pot that my mother gave her."

Harry didn't reply. He decided there was nothing to say in this situation. Instead he did the only thing that he could actually possibly do. He burst into a fit of laughter so genuine and loud that Ron had to leave the room to avoid hexing his friend and fellow Auror.


	4. IV

**Author's Notes:** Oh my! FFNet just crumpled half of this chapter into one big paragraph, deleting words here and there for no apparent reason! It took me ages to put it right, and I hope I didn't make a mess. If some sentences sound weird it's not my fault! To those that didn't notice, the rating has gone up for some sexy stuff that goes on in this chapter. Next one will be simply explicit, so don't tell me I didn't warn you! Comments are love, remember that! By the way, I just read a brilliant fan-fiction on AO3. You should go and read it, it's pure awesomeness and makes this story look really, really bad, but I loved it so much I think I need to advertise it here, it's called "Breaking Him" (plus its three sequels) by twistedmiracle. Go read it! I'm not even joking! It's an order! ;)

* * *

IV.

"Well, there is not much left to do on your list," said Ginny, nodding towards the piece of parchment that Hermione kept in her hands.

"No," murmured Hermione, putting the list of suggestions given by Ginny and Harry back in her pocket. She had showed up on her sister-in-law doorstep with the gloomiest of the faces and had become even more depressed when Ginny said that she couldn't breathe because of the laughter. Apparently, Ron stuck with a gag in his mouth and Hermione tied to the bed was not a reason enough for her to be sympathetic.

"So, when are you going to do the nasty in front of the Ministry of Magic?"

Hermione looked at her blankly. "First of all," she said calmly, "we are not going to do it in front of the Ministry. Second, things have been so bad between us that we don't even know if we are going to do it."

Ginny's eyes widened with horror. "What? You are not thinking of…" Her voice trailed away as she could not bear to even think at what they would do. Take time off? Separate for a while? _Divorce?_ It was unconceivable that someone in the Weasley household would be unhappy in his marriage, and she knew that it would have worried her poor old mother if she knew Ron and Hermione's woes.

"No, no," replied Hermione hurriedly. "It's not quite as bad as you think, but we might just take it slow." She sighed. "Slower."

Ginny shook her head, relieved that Hermione and Ron were not thinking about Merlin knows what, but not so relieved that her and Harry's suggestions hadn't obtained the desired effect so far and hadn't succeeded in rekindle the passion between those two. "I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione," she said. "You should tackle that last thing as soon as possible and get over with it."

Hermione looked at Ginny puzzled. "Get over with it?" she asked. "You make it sounds like it's a chore."

"No," said Ginny, "_you_ make it sound like it's chore." She sighed again. "You should have fun, not mope about what to do and how to do it."

"I don't mope," pointed out Hermione.

Ginny crossed her arms. "Then tell Ron to meet you somewhere and play by ear."

"I'm not good at that," confessed Hermione.

"Well, too bad, that's half the fun," she admitted.

Hermione looked uneasy.

"Well, you can decide the when and where," she conceded, "but I would leave the what to how you feel at that moment."

Hermione nodded. "Any suggestions?" she asked, smiling weakly.

Ginny grinned mischievously. "Well, those Ministry desks are surprisingly comfortable, you know…"

ooo

Recently, evening was Ron and Hermione's favourite time of day. They could just sit in their living room, or in the kitchen, with Rose, and for once not thinking about their sex life and the fact that they didn't have one. They could relax and think about nothing. Except for that very evening maybe. Ron lay on his stomach on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, Rose was sitting on his back, riding him as if he were a horse.

"Fast!" she said every now and then and Ron had to buck his back under her little body for a few seconds to please his daughter before going still again. Until she would say another, "Fast, Dada!" and he would buck a bit more. She didn't get bored easily, and Ron was not exactly grateful for that particular trait of her personality at that very moment.

"So," said Hermione walking into the living room with a glass of water in her hand and a book in the other. She sat on the couch and raised her legs to rest over the armrest. "Dinner is going to be in ten minutes."

"Great," moaned Ron. "I'm starving."

"Fast, Dada!" cried Rose.

Hermione smiled behind her book. "Fast, Ron!" she encouraged him.

Ron grumbled. "I'm too old for this," he said.

"Maybe you are old enough to talk about something else, then," she continued.

Ron's eyes widened and he raised his head, curving his back and making Rose slide down towards his bottom. "Wee! Again!" she screamed.

Ron sighed. "This is not the time to discuss _that_, Hermione," he hissed. "Not with You-Know-Who right here."

"Voldemort?" asked Hermione lightly. "And this is as good a time as any, You-Know-Who doesn't understand what we are talking about." And Hermione was right. As always. Rose was too engrossed in her jumping up and down on her father's back and pulling mercilessly at her father's hair to even care about what her parents were talking about.

"Listen you just have to give me a place and a date, we don't have to discuss the S-E-X right here right now." She sighed. "According to Ginny we don't have to discuss it at all."

"Why do you keep talking about our S-E-X to Ginny?" he whined.

"Because she is my friend," replied Hermione matter-of-factly.

"And my sister," Ron reminded her.

"Aunty Ginny!" said Rose.

Ron glared at Hermione. "See? Your D-A-U-G-H-T-E-R understands," he hissed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Luckily, the kitchen alarm went off and dinner was ready, shifting the conversation focus from the S-E-X to the delicious lasagne that Hermione had cooked.

ooo

Ron Apparated in his own living room. "Hermione," he called, excitement and nervousness in his voice. "Hermione!"

"In the bathroom," came her faint reply.

He walked to his room and sat on their bed, facing the bathroom door, and expectantly waiting for Hermione to come out. When nothing happened, he decided it was time to give her a little incentive. "Hermione, the Muggle Rights Equality Act that you proposed last month just passed!"

There was a rustling, a ruffling of towels and some sliding of bare feet on the wet floor. Ron hoped that she wasn't going to fall, that would have all been his fault, especially because the news was just a big fat lie.

The door burst open. "It passed?" she asked, her eyes shining like Ron had only seen on their wedding day or when Rose was born.

"Well," he replied, regretting his lie, "no, not really. I just wanted you to come out." He smiled and patted the bed next to him. "But I have some good news."

Hermione looked ready to skin him alive. The act was probably the most important thing in her life after her family – and right now before Ron – at the moment. She had worked on it for months and had just recently submitted it to the High Committee.

"Sit," Ron encouraged her.

Hermione crossed her arms without moving. "What did you have to say?" she asked, icily.

Ron sighed, he should have imagined that his trick wouldn't have gone down well. "I just wanted to set a date and a place for our…" He blushed. "…rendezvous."

Hermione looked suspiciously at him and she had every reason to do so. They were less and less sure that Harry and Ginny's methods to revive the passion worked at all, and from time to time they had thought to give up on them. But a month had passed since their last misadventure with the bondage equipment and by now they were forgetting the fear of getting into involuntary trouble with some other brilliant idea and were once again starting to miss the S-E-X (as they were starting to call it even when Rose was not around).

"What place?" asked Hermione, completely still.

"Your office at the Ministry of Magic," he said, smiling. "Next Monday morning, between ten in the morning and three in the afternoon."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "My, that's an awful lot of time."

"Well, that's the window of opportunity that we have," replied Ron. "We are going to hold an Open Day for Sixth and Seventh year students at Hogwarts."

"I didn't know that," said Hermione slightly puzzled.

"Well, I just got the notice," he said. "Every Auror is required in the Atrium at ten and then the students will visit the most interesting places in the Ministry."

Hermione's eyes became two fissures. "And my office is not interesting."

Ron looked away. "No offence, but no," he said quietly.

Hermione glared at him. "And aren't you supposed to be in the Atrium as well? Aren't you an Auror?"

"I am. But I can disappear for half an hour, they won't even notice it." He winked and smiled.

"Blimey, still an awful lot of time," she replied blankly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on, Hermione," he whined. "We will have the adrenaline of having sex in a public place, without the apprehension of being discovered."

Hermione looked at him seriously, probably pondering what to do. To believe or not to believe the safety of her office? Her train of thoughts was interrupted when Ron stretched his hand and grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. "Come on, Hermione," he said, "it's going to be fun." He smiled. "And safe, totally safe. Nobody will ever come in, nobody comes into your office anyway."

"That's not true," she said, trying to sound outraged without succeeding. It was clear that he was right. "Kingsley came into my office… three months ago."

Ron suppressed a chuckle. "Well, that makes it all the more dangerous."

Hermione's crossed face relaxed and her lips twitched into an involuntary smile. "So… Monday from ten onwards?" she asked, looking Ron into his eyes. "I shall wait for you."

"And I shall not be late," he replied huskily.

She bent down and kissed him hurriedly before going back to the bathroom to start the brobdingnagian task of taming her hair.

ooo

Harry walked into Ron's office. A small, bright thing with posters of the Cannons on the walls. "Are you nervous?" he asked, looking at Ron. "I think you've faced worse, haven't you?"

"Uh?" asked Ron distractedly. He was sweating and biting nervously his nails to the bones, his eyes staring at the wall.

"They are just students," said Harry nonchalantly. "And we get to see Neville."

"Do we?"

With a loud chime, the Grandfather Clock signalled that it was ten in the morning and that it was time for Ron to go. The Auror stood from his chair and grabbed the first pile of papers that he managed to find. "I need to take these to… to the…" He looked around and saw a bag of Gobstones – who says Aurors don't work hard? – "The Gobstones Club."

"The – _what_? Ron, but there's the Open—"

Ron knew there was the Open Day, he didn't feel too guilty when he slammed the door behind him and cut off Harry's sentence. He would have been back before anybody noticed anyway, well, anybody else at least.

The walk from the Auror Headquarters to Hermione's office was not long. They were both on the same floor after all. The only difference, according to Ron, was that Harry and himself got all the action and Hermione all the papers. Hermione didn't seem to mind though. She liked that Department more than the one where she had worked before and here she could have had lunch with Ron and Harry every day. Plus, hours were more flexible, exactly what she needed since Rose was born.

On his way to the office, Ron tried to look as nonchalant as possible. He whistled and greeted everybody, even people he had only nodded to in the past, and smiled nervously here and there, stopping at times to read notices and commenting on them.

"Ah, no milk in the cafeteria today," he said out loud, "what a catastrophe! What am I going to put in my tea? Why, oh why! In Merlin's name, why?" Or, "Another meeting on Saturday? When are we going to go on a strike?"

Employees of the Ministry were starting to look at him as if he had been attacked by one of the brains that were kept in the Brain Room, and since everybody knew that that had already happened once, they couldn't see why it couldn't happen twice

Ron's bizarre behaviour changed when he approached a heavy, wooden door with a golden label that said, 'Hermione Weasley, Head of Improper Use of Magic Office'. He straighten his back and tried to look as professional as he could. He held his papers up high for everyone to see and knocked on the door.

"Hey Weasley," called a short man at his back, "had a row with the wife?"

He raised his chin. "I don't know what you are talking about, Johnson."

"You look so serious," said the man, "last time you were here you threw a Dungbomb under her chair."

Ron turned red. Hopefully, Hermione had not heard that. She was still in the dark about who had done that and Ron would have wanted to keep it that way. And he hadn't thrown anything at all, it had just slipped from his pocket. "Shut up," he mumbled when, from the other side of the door, came Hermione's faint invitation to come in.

Ron pushed the door open and stepped inside. In a spacious and tidy office, behind the desk, there sat his wife. She looked just like every other day, yet as soon as his eyes lingered on her figure he felt a rush of unstoppable heat coming from his lower stomach. Probably it was the adrenaline, probably it was the fact that, as he stared at her, she did not actually look like every other day. Ron caressed her with his eyes and noticed that her hair was shinier than usual, her white shirt was unbuttoned a bit lower than the other days - and he could see her milky and inviting cleavage - and that she was wearing make-up, something that she usually did not bother with at work.

"Yes?" she asked, smiling sensually. "May I help you?"

Ron slowly licked his lips. "I sure hope so," he said, huskily.

"Weasley, is it?" continued Hermione. Apparently, she wanted to play a bit and that was exactly what Ron wanted to do too.

"Yes," he said, "and you too, apparently."

Hermione puckered her lips in disappointment.

"I saw the label outside," continued Ron, nodding towards the door.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, Ron," she said, her voice irritated, "play along."

Ron sighed. "It's called a joke," he said, but decided to drop the argument for the sake of S-E-X. "Granger, right?"

"That's quite right," she said her voice back to a purr, "can I help you?" She fluttered her eyelashes at her husband and wetted her lips.

He swallowed. "I have some papers for you." He walked up to her and put the papers on her desk.

Hermione smiled and looked up at the tall man. "Thank you, these are so heavy," she said, pretending to attempt to raise them fromt he table without succeeding, "you must be very strong." Ron noticed that she had to bite her lip not to laugh at that. "It was very nice of you to take these all the way up to my office."

Ron smiled, the smile of a man who had just received a kiss from a Dementor. "No problem," he said. He was unsure as to what he should have said next. Luckily, his wife looked like she had no problem into taking the lead.

"Merlin, it's hot in here, isn't it?" she said, sliding her hand on her neck and down towards her chest, she was deliberately slow and sensual and Ron had his eyes glued to her exposed skin.

"It is," he said, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his own shirt. "Maybe you would be more comfortable without your shirt."

"Mr. Weasley!" exclaimed Hermione, faking embarrassment. "I don't even know you."

"Call me Ron," he said quickly. For a moment there he felt like Hermione was addressing his father and that was not a thought that would have made him hard at all. "And you are going to know me quite well, don't worry about that."

Hermione flushed or at least pretended to flush. She stood up and Ron could see that her shirt was tucked into a short, black skirt and white suspenders were slightly visible under the hem. She was also taller than usual, her feet squeezed into stiletto heel shoes. She pretended to lose her balance – or she actually did, not difficult to believe since Ron had never seen her in such high heels – and leaned against Ron, grinding her body against her husband's.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking into his eyes. "I'm lucky you are so muscular." She placed her manicured hand on his arm and squeezed gently.

Ron smiled broadly. He liked where this was going. "Thank you," he said. "So, shall I help you out of your shirt?"

Hermione smiled, she bit her bottom lip and nodded. She leaned her buttocks on the edge of the desk and pushed her breasts up, taking a deep breath. Then she stood completely still, holding back her breath. Waiting. Waiting for Ron to start unbuttoning her shirt.

Ron swallowed, his mouth dry. He took a step forward and brought his sweaty and trembling hands to her shirt. The task was more difficult than expected. In the name of fashion, the buttons were much bigger than the holes and it was only by bending them in a certain way that they would slip through the gaps. Sweaty and shaky hands didn't make it any easier.

"Do you need help?" asked Hermione bored that a good five minutes have passed and no button had been undone.

"No, I can do it," said Ron, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"You have to do it this way…" She grabbed a button and made it slide quite easily through the hole.

Ron glared at her. "Don't be bossy, Hermione," he said annoyed, forgetting the role-play all together. "You make me feel like an idiot because of your stupid shirt. I know perfectly well what to do, thank you very much." He grabbed his wand and waved it. "Diffindo," he said and Hermione's shirt was cut open as if he had used an invisible knife.

She was now standing in front of him, her breasts covered only by a see-through, pink, lacy bra. Her shirt hung open and Ron put his hands on her shoulders and made it slide down her arms until it lay discarded on the desk.

"I like your lingerie, Miss Granger," he purred, brushing her bra with his fingers. "I bet you are wearing coordinated knickers…"

"You would lose your bet," she replied, winking, "I'm not wearing any knickers…"

Ron looked at her in disbelief. "W-well, g-good," he smiled and came closer to him.

"You like that?" she whispered in his ear.

Ron smiled again, then Hermione leaned against the desk and slid effortlessly on it, sitting in front of Ron. "Are you going to kiss me or not?" she asked teasingly.

Ron didn't let her ask him twice. He stepped towards his wife and started to snog her like he hadn't done in a while. He crushed his lips against hers and felt Hermione respond to his passion with equal force. His hands roamed her body, from her shoulders down to her hips, but when they found her bra they stopped to push it down to uncover her nipples.

"Maybe we found our trigger," panted Hermione as Ron started to kiss his way to her cleavage. "We have to have sex in some public place."

Ron straightened and put his finger on her lips. "Don't talk," he said, before replacing his finger with his lips. He pushed Hermione down until she found herself with her back against the desk, then moved his lips down and attacked her nipples with his tongue and teeth.

Hermione moaned out loud.

"You like that, don't you?" asked Ron against her skin.

She nodded, breathlessly as he put his left hand on her knee and slowly inched it up towards her hip. Hermione took a sharp breath as he reached between her legs, but her words were unexpected when she spoke. "Don't!" she said, grabbing his hand. "Wait," she added, smiling.

She sat up, pulled Ron towards her, unzipped his fly and dived her hands into his jeans. He groaned as she closed her fingers around his filling member and started to rub with slow and firm movements. Her fingers touching him exactly the way she knew he liked to be touched. He felt touched that she still remembered.

"Hermione…" he breathed out. "You… So good…"

Hermione smiled satisfied. She grabbed his balls with her hand and stroked them a bit before withdrawing. He looked at her with disappointment a moan escaping his lips at the sudden loss of contact."

You don't want to finish before we even start, do you?" she asked sensibly.

Ron grinned excited. "No," he said as he slowly returned his mouth to Hermione's breasts. He grabbed her behind her knee, pushed her leg up, placing her left foot on the desk, and once again found her wet folds with his hand. Hermione's left hand was in Ron's hair, pushing him against her nipple, the other one was grabbing the desk edge. It looked like their passion was back on track and nothing would have stopped them from enjoying each other's body till they lay there all sweaty and happy. Nothing, probably, but a group of Seventh Year Students visiting from Hogwarts accompanied by Head Auror Harry Potter and Professor Neville Longbottom.

And that was exactly what happened. The door opened suddenly and if anyone had knocked at all, both Ron and Hermione hadn't heard a thing.

"And this is Mrs. Weasley's office," the Head Auror said, "she is the Head of Improper Use of Magic Office." There was snickering and gasping coming from the crowd of students. "What? What is it?" asked Harry as he was giving his back to the desk where the tryst was being consummated. "Why are you—bloody hell!"

Hermione looked up first, then it was Ron's time. At first, they looked surprised rather than horrified, then it was definitely horror that appeared on their faces. Hermione was the first one to react, she pushed Ron off of her and cried in dismay. Ron tried to grab the desk to steady himself, but Hermione's shock had made her particularly strong and, instead, he ended up on his back on the floor between her chair and the desk. Hermione, instinctively, covered herself up with her arms and the remains of the shirt. She rolled on her side and turned, giving her back to their audience. Unluckily, she was much closer to the edge than she had realised and ended up falling on top of him, squishing his family jewels as well as his stomach and ribs.

"Ouch," he cried out, "Hermione, get off me."

But she didn't seem to want to move. He looked at her face and noticed that her perfect make-up was all smudged around her mouth and down her cheeks as some hot tears of embarrassement were already starting to fall down.

"Well, let's go, children, come on," said Neville hurriedly, "it's obvious that Mrs. Weasley is busy." There was a rustling of feet and some protests and giggles, but after Neville had threatened to hex the students everybody left in silence and quickly, and Harry closed the door behind them.

Hermione was still curled on her side, all her weight on Ron's ribs.

"Hermione, I can't breathe," panted out Ron.

She raised her head and looked at him then, unceremoniously, she pushed on his chest and stood up, covering herself as best as she could. She magically repaired her shirt and made her skirt lengthen to something that wouldn't have been considered indecent. All this while her hands were still shaking and Ron was still lying on the floor.

"I think I broke something," he moaned out.

Hermione glared at him. She looked like she was seriously considering hexing her husband. "I would shut up if I were you."

Ron grabbed the desk and stood up, proving that he hadn't broken anything serious. "My ribs…" he complained to himself rather than his wife.

Hermione sat at her desk, absolutely deaf to his moaning.

"Hermione?"

"Ron, don't talk to me, don't call my name, don't even look at me," she hissed.

"What?" he asked confused. "It's not my fault if—"

"Nobody ever comes to your office, Hermione," she said, in a deep, masculine voice that sounded like what a speaking gorilla would have sounded. "They will never catch us, Hermione."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it and closed it again. He walked to the nearest chair and let himself collapse on it.

Hermione, in the meantime, had taken out quill and parchment and was scribbling down furiously on a piece of parchment.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron weakly.

"What does it look like? Writing my advance notice," she said, without even looking at him.

Ron paled. "What? Isn't that a bit premature?" He massaged his ribs. "It was just Harry… and Neville… and…"

"… and a group of Seventh Years students from Hogwarts," she hissed. "I suppose you can ask George to go back to work in his shop and I… I can always become a dentist like my parents." She seemed to think about it. "I will have to go back to study, though"

"Hermione…"

She glared at him. "Shut it!"

Ron lowered his eyes. He understood that they have just been caught in a very compromising situation – blimey! They were about to have sex in her office! – but he felt like Hermione was overreacting like she usually did. "I don't think—"

A loud knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a panicked look. Hermione opened her drawer and took out a small mirror. She had a quick look at herself, something that didn't do much except raising her despair at the view of her smudged make-up and worried face.

"Come in," she said, loud enough for the person on the other side to hear.

When the door opened Harry came in. His face slightly flushed as he looked from Hermione to Ron. Ron raised his eyes to look at his best friend.

"Hey," muttered Ron, looking away quickly.

Hermione stared at Harry, her eyes wide as she held her breath and braced herself for what was coming.

"Hermione, Ron," he said seriously. "I'm afraid the Minister of Magic would like to exchange a few words with you. In his office."

Hermione looked like she was on the verge of tears again. Ron turned a ghastly green colour. He was torn between the fear of losing his job alongside his wife and the shame he felt for having let themselves get caught.

"He said right now," added Harry softly as nobody was moving.

Hermione wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall again. She stood up and smoothed her skirt in the most graceful way possible. She didn't even look at Ron when she walked past him and waited for him in the doorway. "Hurry up," she hissed to her husband, when he didn't move.

Ron stood up with some difficulties and walked shakily towards Hermione, his head low, his eyes focused on the floor and one of his hands on his ribs. He felt his heart pounding furiously in his chest as he trailed behind his wife, but before they could actually walk out of the office Harry burst into laughter at their backs.

Ron turned towards him and saw his friend bent over, his hands on his stomach and his face all red.

"You think it's funny, Potter?" asked Ron in a hiss.

"Don't be nasty, Ron," bit out Hermione, "of course it's funny to him. We are a couple of fools!"

Harry shook his head, raising his hands to stop them. "No, no!" he breathed out laughing hard. "It's not that!"

Hermione and Ron looked at him without understanding, then, when Neville walked into the office in the same condition as Harry, something dawned in their heads.

"We don't have to see the Minister?" asked Ron tentatively.

Neville shook his head, laughing harder. "We… we…" he tried to say, but he was out of breath because of his laughter. He tried to regain composure and took a deep breath. "We Obliviated the students," he finally managed to let them know.

Hermione grabbed the door handle for support. "Is that even legal?" she asked weakly.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione, shush!" said Ron but, as he looked over at her, he knew that she was still shocked and that was the irrational part of her brain to speak. "Who cares…" he added.

Harry and Neville laughed harder. "And don't worry, we are not going to babble it out to anybody," said Neville.

Harry seemed to think about it. "Except for Ginny," he said.

"Yes, and Hannah," added Neville, and they both laughed again harder than before.

Hermione walked towards her chair, unstable on her heels, and sat down heavily. "I don't know what to say," she muttered.

"I do," said Ron fiercely, straightening his back and towering over his friends – a term he would start to use loosely to describe Harry and Neville – in a menacing way. "What is wrong with you?" he hissed.

Harry chuckled. "Just having fun," he replied. "Aren't you having fun?"

Ron glared at him. "No," he hissed.

"Aren't you, Hermione?" asked Neville.

Hermione raised her eyes on her friend and glared at him. "Get out," she said in a dangerously low hiss, "all of you, just get out of my office!"

Ron looked concerned. "Hermione…"

"Get out of my office!" she cried.

Harry and Neville, still laughing, left the office quickly. Their shoes clicking on the floor.

"Hermione, you are right to be mad, that was such a stupid—"

"Ron, get out! Leave me alone!" she thundered. "I'm too angry to talk to you!"

"But you are right. I'm angry too, you know. I'm on your sid—ribbit!" Ron had only the time to see an orange light zapping towards him from Hermione's wand and then he was falling down, down, down, towards the floor. When he looked up at Hermione she was now looking down at him with menacing eyes. He tried to say something but all he could muster was, "Ribbit!" and has he jumped towards his wife, he noticed that he was unstable on his green, small legs.

"Get out!" barked Hermione.

And Ron didn't have much left to do but turn on his legs and jump towards the door, where Harry and Neville greeted him by saying what a cute little toad he was.


	5. V

**Author's Notes: **Honestly! FFNet did it again! This chapter was all crumbled in a big, untidy paragraph! Luckily I decided to try to save it in .odt and re-upload it, and it worked. I have no idea what was wrong with the original chapter in .docx, the others worked just fine, and it was just this one because I uploaded another document in here and it was perfect. The weird thing is that now the word count is different, there are about 100 words more than in Word and I have no idea where those words are! Why, oh why!? Anyway, last chapter, rating is M, you've been warned. Hope you'll have fun here, I like the penultimate scene most of all! But please, do review! And if you liked this - or any of my stories - go vote for them in the poll in my Profile page! Happy reading! Thanks for the comments and all the love you sent my way!

* * *

V.

"Really, Ginny," said Harry, pouting. "I thought you would have found the whole story a bit more amusing."

Ginny stirred the tomato sauce she was cooking and tapped the wooden spoon on the edge of the pan. "I have already heard that story, Harry," she said coldly, "Hermione told me a few hours after it happened and now Ron is sleeping on the couch, thanks to you."

Harry was outraged. "Thanks to me?"

"Thanks to you and Neville," she rectified.

"Thanks to us?" he asked. "How is this our fault?"

"You had to walk in there and let them have a heart attack, didn't you?" she asked harshly. She liked to pull a good trick on her brother, but this was just a bit too malicious for her liking.

"Honestly," said Harry, taking a crisp from a bag he had opened while waiting for dinner, and munching on it. "We thought we were just being good friends and surprising Hermione. She is always complaining how nobody ever goes to see her."

"Not that," said Ginny, pouring some pasta in a pot of boiling water. "That was an accident. I'm talking about the prank you pulled on them."

"Well, at least we didn't Transfigure Ron into a toad," chuckled Harry.

Ginny glared at her husband, but when she turned her back to him she smiled. That was something she would have loved to see.

"Honestly, those two," said Harry, still munching, "they are just a mess when it's up to such basic things." He stood up from the stool where he was sitting, and started to lay the table. Four places, plus Lily's high chair.

"I feel guilty," said Ginny suddenly as she stirred the pasta.

"Guilty?" asked Harry.

Ginny turned to look at him and nodded. "Guilty about what they had to go through in the past months."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "It's not our fault if they mess up everything."

"Well, it kind of is, they followed _our_ suggestions."

"Our suggestions are great," pointed out Harry, "they worked fine with us."

Ginny smiled softly. They did, Albus and Lily were living proof of that. "Yes, but maybe that's not who they are…"

Harry chuckled. "That's _definitely_ not who they are…"

"We should do something," said Ginny thoughtfully.

"Something… like?" asked Harry unsure about what she was getting at.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders as she poured the pasta and the water into a colander. "We should… I don't know, offer to look after Rose for a night… prepare an intimate dinner… leave them alone to work out their problems…"

Harry looked at Ginny, she was mixing the sauce with the pasta, her face screwed in concentration, as if she was thinking about other ways to reconcile her brother and his wife.

"James!" called Harry as he picked Lily up from the floor where she was playing with tiny, flying Quidditch players – amongst which, her mother – and placed her in the high chair. "Albus!" The two boys ran into the kitchen, racing each other.

"Pasta!" said James, climbing up a chair.

"Pasta!" echoed Albus, running towards the chair next to where his mother used to sit.

"Pasta!" agreed Harry cheerfully as he helped both his sons at the same time.

"So? What do you think?" asked Ginny, sitting down next to Lily and trying to prevent her from dunking her fist into the baby food and smash it all over her face.

"I think it's a great idea," said Harry sitting between his sons. "Plus, I don't think we have enough children in this house…"

Ginny smiled and looked at him from across the table. "Are you being sarcastic?"

"Maybe…" he said, smiling back to her.

"Great," she said, "that's settled then." And she poured herself some water as Lily threw some baby food in her face and her sons and husband started to chuckle.

ooo

Ron smiled his most affable smile and looked straight into his sister's eyes. "Let me think about it," he said, pretending to think, "no, thank you. I don't need help and even if I did you and your husband would be the last people on Earth I would ask."

Ginny rolled her eyes. She had invited Ron over to talk him through her plan, something she liked to call 'The Ultimate Plan on How to Get Ron and Hermione Back in Bed Together', something that made her brother cringe. So far, though, her mission was proving far more difficult than what she had expected, but somehow she had to agree with Ron if he didn't want to listen to any of her advice any time soon.

"Harry and I aren't suggesting anything in particular," she said, truthfully, "we'll only have Rose over for a sleepover and prepare you and Hermione dinner. You take it from there."

Ron looked suspiciously at his sister. "That's all?" he asked.

Ginny nodded. "You tell us the day and we will surprise your wife with a romantic dinner… then whatever happens, happens."

Ron didn't like to talk about the S-E-X with his sister. He coughed uncomfortably and shifted on the armchair where he was sitting. "Probably nothing," he said, flushing, "I am sleeping on the couch anyway."

"Still?" asked Ginny concerned. "It has been three days."

Ron nodded, rubbing his back. "I had to go to St. Mungo's this morning," he said. "My back is killing me. Between falling off the desk, Hermione falling on me and the couch, I feel like I am a hundred years old."

"What did they say?" asked Ginny.

Ron snorted. "That I should sleep on a more even surface," replied Ron, "like maybe a bed."

"See?" exclaimed Ginny. "It's the doctor who says that we need to help you two doing the nasty again."

"He did not say such thing," pointed out Ron.

Ginny smiled sheepishly. "We just want to help."

Her brother was surprised. "Didn't you help enough?" he asked.

"Oh, come on," said Ginny, "besides what could go wrong this time? There's nothing peculiar about an intimate dinner and a night in…"

ooo

Hermione Apparated in her entrance way with a bag in a hand and some rolled parchment in the other. She hung her coat and took off her shoes, slipping into a pair of big, colourful, unsexy slippers. Then she stopped, smelling the air like a dog. There was food ready in the house – and she didn't mean crisps and gherkins out of the vase. It was actually the smell of something hot and, well, hopefully scrumptious. It was meaty and smelled delicious.

The first thought in Hermione's head was that someone had introduced himself in her house to… cook? That was ridiculous, she knew it well, but still it was more plausible than Ron cooking for them. _Right_, she thought, _probably it was take out and he__ had__ just heated it._

She walked into the kitchen and looked behind the island. Ron was wearing one of her aprons, which barely reached his tights and made him look like even taller and bigger than usual. For the first time in a week, Hermione couldn't help smiling.

"Well, you definitely have something to ask forgiveness for, don't you?" she asked and those were literally the first words she had spoken to him since the office accident.

Ron turned to look at her, first surprised, then relieved. A smile crept over his lips. "Rose is at Ginny and Harry's," he said, nodding towards the table. It was laid for two with their finest china and the most expensive table cloth they had in the house. Candles were floating around the table and in the middle, next to a jar of pink lemonade, there was a vase of fresh roses and lilies.

"We never use these," said Hermione, half-way through feeling concerned for the safety of her dishes and excited to find this surprise.

Ron walked up to her. Under the apron, he was wearing a jet black dinner suit that fit him perfectly. His ruffled hair must have taken him ages to comb. He placed his hands on Hermione's waist and went for a kiss which, to his surprise, was actually responded to.

"Why don't you go and change?" he whispered in her ear. "There's a dress on your bed."

Hermione fluttered her eyelids and sighed. "Our bed," she corrected him softly.

Ron smiled. "Our bed," he confirmed.

She walked as if she were in a dream towards their bedroom. On the bed, there was a midnight blue dress, strapless and knee long. It was new, Hermione didn't own such a beautiful thing. The fact that Ron had bought her a dress filled her with surprise and apprehension. He was not very good with sizes.

She shook her head. She didn't want to have negative thoughts, especially now that he had to go such lengths to get back into her good graces.

She wanted to be collaborative: she took a quick shower, charmed her hair to look soft and smooth, slipped into the dress and discarded the slippers in favour of the high heels. She put on some make up and looked at her reflection, she took a deep breath – noticed how well the dress fit her – and went back into the kitchen.

Ron smiled broadly when his wife walked in. He took off the apron and stepped towards her, he grabbed her hand and kissed it gently. "This way," he said, pulling her towards the chair. He moved it back and pushed it towards Hermione's knees, letting her sit gracefully on it.

Hermione took the napkin that was folded like a swan on her plate and put it on her lap. "Wow," she breathed. "Ron, did you do all this by yourself?" she asked.

"You seem surprised," he said. "Of course I didn't. I've been helped, but my little helpers shall remain unnamed." He sat opposite Hermione. "I hope you like lobster," he said as he clapped his hands and half a lobster transported from the pan to her plate and the other half on his own. Its white meat was coated in a lemony butter sauce and it looked delicious. "Apparently it pairs wonderfully with this alcoholic pink lemonade," he added, pouring her and then himself some. "A secret recipe from Ginny."

Hermione took the glass in her hand and raised it towards Ron. "To us, then," she said, as their glasses clinked.

"To us," he replied, smiling.

They downed the liquid and put the glasses back on the table. Ron letting out a small burp of appreciation that Hermione would have normally scolded if she weren't too busy pondering the drink.

"What's in there?" she asked. "Didn't have much of a lemony taste for me," she added perplexed, "it was more like grass and… paper… no, parchment and something else… not lemon though."

"Really?" asked Ron, confused. "To me it was more like chocolate and wood."

They came to the realization together. They saw each other's expressions change with surprise at first, then fear, then anger. Then everything was gone except for a strong, overpowering lust that filled their eyes, their mind and every fibre of their beings.

Ron stood up. He put his arms on the table and pushed plates, lobsters, glasses and everything that there was on there off of it. Hermione didn't even seem to notice that her beautiful and expensive set of dishes went shattering on the floor. She stood up as well and put her knees on the table, meeting her husband in the middle.

Their lips crushed, they opened their mouths straight away, sucking and beating each other's tongues. Ron placed his hands on both sides of her face, pulling her, if possible, even more towards him.

"I love you," he said passionately, amongst kisses.

"I love you more," replied Hermione with equal passion. She ran her hands on his chest and grabbed his shirt. She pulled it apart with her hands and made the buttons fly all around them, exposing his chest and almost making him choke on his tie. He coughed slightly and frantically tried to loosen the knot around his neck, once he had managed to discard it on the floor Hermione pushed the suit jacket and shirt off her husband's shoulders to reach the tie.

She purred as he made his muscles flicker under his skin. She bent down and started kissing, biting and sucking on his chest. She reached his nipple and bit down hard.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Ron, raising Hermione's chin to look at his torso. There was a dark shade of red on her lips, different from the colour of her lipstick, and a big drop of blood was forming where Hermione's teeth have broken his sensitive skin.

Hermione's eyes shone, she smiled wildly and growled like a cat and that was enough to entice Ron's response. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her off the table, catching her before she could fall on the floor. He spun her around and pushed her stomach down against the table.

He didn't even took the time to divest from the trousers, he just unzipped his fly to free his erection. He raised Hermione's skirt and was delighted to see that she was not wearing any underwear. He penetrated her with force, his movements quick and rough.

She arched her back and moaned loudly as Ron grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him as he pushed deeper into her. Their breathing became ragged and, together with the slapping of their bodies, it was the only sound in the house.

"Mngggh," let out Ron as he finally reached his orgasm inside Hermione. She grabbed the edge of the table and let out a cry, following him. He hugged her stomach and stood still for a moment, his member still resting inside of her. She raised her head and turned to kiss him. He sucked on her tongue until she wriggled her bottom against his stomach in a sensual way.

Ron broke the kiss and tried to take a step back. He encountered a resistance in the form of his trousers, still wrapped around his knees and, with a loud thud, ended up flat on his bottom on the floor. Hermione didn't even turn to ask him if he were all right, she sat up on his lap and, since she was still wrapped around him, started riding him, her back still towards him.

"Faster," she cried out, slapping his thigh.

Ron grabbed her waist and pushed her back and forth as he pushed up towards her centre. He grabbed her dress that was now covering her and half of his body and pushed Hermione towards him. Her back was now against his chest and he stretched his arms and grabbed her thighs pulling them towards her chest until he felt the muscles in her legs twitch. She brought her hand to his head and pulled at his locks so hard that some hair came away between her fingers.

He increased his pace and tightened the pressure of his grip on her thighs, leaving red imprints that would have soon become blue. Hermione felt her second orgasm starting to burn inside of her, but before she could reach it Ron had pushed her unceremoniously off of him. She rolled on the floor, ending up on her stomach. Ron grabbed her sleek hair and dragged her to the couch. He propped her up, her stomach now against the cushions, her bottom up in the air. He grasped her dress and tried to make it slide up her body, when it didn't move, clutched between Hermione's body and the couch, Ron tried to push it down. Again, it didn't move.

"Urgh!" cried Ron and, beginning with the hem, he started to tear it from his wife.

She arched her body as Ron tore the dress open on her back, and looked over her shoulder to see him push his trousers off his legs. Now were both completely naked. Ron's rough hands were on her back, pushing her against the couch, her face sunk in a pillow. He spread her butt cheeks and with no warning he started to enter her rear hole.

She cried out, her toes curling on the floor and her fingers tightening their grip on the cushion. She managed to turn her head and grab Ron's forearm, clutching her nails into his skin and drawing blood. He grabbed her wrist and put it on the small of her back, then up and up and up, bending her arm until they heard a loud click coming from her shoulder.

She cried out, but he seemed unfazed by her pain. He continued to pound into her, until he was ready once again to come into her. When he came down from his second orgasm, he fell on his wife, crushing her body between him and the couch and her arm between their two sweaty bodies.

Hermione turned her head to kiss him and when he introduced his tongue in her mouth she bit down hard, filling both mouths with blood. Ron grabbed her hair and she unclenched her teeth.

"So good," he breathed out against her skin as he licked the sweat off her face, leaving blood trails on her cheeks. "Taste so good."

Hermione bucked her bottom towards her husband who stopped to savour the feeling of her movements around him. He drew back and pulled out of her hole, looking at his wife's perfect curves as he did so. She turned and sat on the couch, her left shoulder bending in an awkward way.

"You had enough?" she asked, pouting her lips and sucking on her index finger.

Ron's eyes clouded, if possible, with even more lust; he licked his lips and threw himself over Hermione, kissing her with wanton. He sneaked a hand on her breast and kneaded it roughly, pinching it and pulling at her nipple.

"Never enough," he replied amongst kisses.

Hermione placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. "Thirsty," she breathed, "I'm thirsty."

Ron nodded. He jumped up and walked towards the kitchen. There seemed to be no water or any other liquid whatsoever on the table or on the floor. The jar with the pink lemonade lay in pieces near the table and Ron stepped carelessly on the pieces of glass, leaving trails of blood behind.

He opened the fridge and peered inside, the only liquid there was a small jar of an intense dark colour. "Coke," exclaimed Ron, grabbing the bottle and showing it to Hermione. He didn't even notice the small label that read 'Antidote' on it.

"Ah!" agreed Hermione, walking up to him.

He took a good gulp and gave the bottle to Hermione, who drank from it. She put it on the kitchen island and looked at Ron.

"I feel weird," said Ron slowly. "I'm tired." He yawned.

Hermione yawned back. "Yes, tired, maybe we should take a nap…" She slid on the floor and her husband did the same next to her, unconcerned about the shattered glasses that tore their skin apart. "Nap… Right here…"

And they both fell asleep.

ooo

Ginny stepped through the window of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. and found herself in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injures. She walked quickly towards the Reception Area and banged her fist on the glass to attract the attention of the Helping Witch.

The witch looked up from the latest issue of Spella Weekly she was flipping through and eyed Ginny. "You have to take a number," she said lazily.

Ginny looked around herself. "There is nobody here," she pointed out irritated.

"Number," she repeated mechanically.

Ginny took a deep breath and turned on her heels. She took a number from a toad's mouth hung on the other side of the Reception Area and came back. The witch looked excitedly at her. "Yes, can I help you?" she asked.

Ginny glared at her. "I'm looking for my brother and my sister-in-law," she explained. "They came here this morning."

"Names?" asked the witch.

"Ron and Hermione Weasley."

"Ah, yes," said the witch taking out a thick fascicle from a drawer. "What was your relation to them again?"

"I'm Ron Weasley's sister," she said, irritated by her slowness.

The witch nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Ginevra Potter, is it?"

"Yes," she replied, surprised that she was preceded by her own fame.

"Mr. Weasley said that they don't wish to see you nor your husband while they are recovering," she informed the woman. "They were very clear on this point."

Ginny looked at the witch confused. "What?"

The witch nodded. "You can be informed about their situation, though," she said, "they actually want you to know what happened to them. Somehow they consider you and Mr. Potter responsible for it." The witch looked at her as if she were a dangerous criminal.

Ginny swallowed, somehow she didn't find it hard to believe. The little Amortentia surprise was just a favour she thought she was doing them, evidently Slughorn had always been right: you shouldn't mess up with love potions. "Well?" she asked.

"A dislocated shoulder, a broken coccyx, deep cuts on most parts of their bodies, bruises, two pulled muscles and a pulled groin," she read out loud. "Ah, and Mrs. Weasley is pregnant."

ooo

Nine months later Ginny was once again in St. Mungo's. This time with Harry and the rest of her family all crowding in a small room, filled with blue balloons that said, 'It's a boy!', cards, plants and flowers. Ron was sitting in a chair next to Hermione's bed. He was holding a little bundle of red-haired joy, who was sleeping and probably subconsciously soaking in all the attention. Hermione, from the bed, was giving Ron directions on how to hold their newborn properly.

"It's our second one, Hermione," Ron reminded her. "I know how to handle him."

"You let Rose fall," she reminded him in turn.

"I fell?" asked Rose, climbing on the bed to have a better look at her brother.

"Yes, you did, and you turned out all right," said Ron nonchalantly.

Hermione shook her head.

"So, Hugo, is it?" asked Charlie, bending over to have a closer look to his umpteenth nephew. "Why Hugo again?"

Hermione smiled. "Because he is a Hugo, isn't he?"

Charlie nodded vaguely, even though he didn't really know what a Hugo looked like, up until now that was it.

"He is so adorable," said Molly, soaking her husband's shoulder with tears.

Arthur looked at Hermione and smiled apologetically. "And you think she would have got used to having grandchildren by now."

Hermione smiled back as a Healer came into the room. "The visiting hour is over," she said sternly. "And you are well over the allowed number of visitors. Everybody out except the mother and the baby."

"And the father?" asked Ron hopefully.

"And the father," agreed the Healer with a sigh. She glared to basically everybody and left.

There was a chorus of 'goodbyes' and 'let us know when they come out of the hospital' before most of the Weasley clan left the room. Ron stood up and handed Hugo carefully to his wife.

"So, all well that ends well, isn't it?" asked Ginny from the foot of Hermione's bed.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron, straightening up and looking at his sister.

Ginny smiled. "We gave you a love potion and nine months and a couple of bruises later here you go, you have another child."

Harry smiled too. "So what we did wasn't so bad," he said.

"You gave us a potion without us knowing, that alone is bad enough," said Hermione calmly, lulling Hugo delicately. "But we said we forgave you, why all the fuss?" She smiled sweetly.

"Because you promised us revenge for this. But if you forgave us then there's no need for that, is there?" asked Harry nervously, ruffling his hair.

Hermione smiled brightly and Ron with her as he sat on the bed next to her and watched his sleeping son. "Oh Harry," he laughed affably. "Of course there is." He looked at Harry and Ginny with a weird twinkle in his eyes. "And I can't wait to settle the score."

"Well said, Ron," agreed Hermione, kissing him with the passion that they had definitely revived.

_FIN_


End file.
